A Long Way From Paradise
by Invisible Ranger
Summary: Kruger, Crowe and Drake, the Oryx Squadron, get sent home to South Africa on what they think is a routine op...only to find that Delacourt's 5-year-old niece, Lorelei, has decided to stow away in the Raven. Getting her back home safely soon becomes the least of their worries. Retitled, now suitably Krugerized and dark. Paradise Years #1. COMPLETE!
1. Stowaway

A Long Way From Paradise

by Invisible Ranger (HBF), 2014

**Disclaimer/Author's Notes: Elysium and related characters belong to N. Blomkamp/Sony. For the jazz and not for profit. Thanks to MauMauKa and leave your sanity for their collaboration and some great ideas on this one.**

"Has anyone seen Lorelei?"

Blank stares. Secretary Delacourt sighed. Mankind could build a sustainable paradise in space, colonize Mars, and eradicate cancer, but apparently keeping tabs on a five-year-old girl was impossible.

"Who, Madame?" asked one of the defense council members.

"My niece," Delacourt said impatiently. "It was her birthday today, and no one seems to know where she's gone. My sister just messaged me in a panic. Do you think you could at least dispatch a security unit to look?" she asked the man to her left.

"Well, Madame, why don't you simply call her tracker up on the screen?" he suggested.

"She is my niece," said Delacourt haughtily, "and besides, she's only five. She doesn't have one yet; just her regular citizenship implant."

"I'll have a droid squad sent over to your sister's at once, Madame. We're a bit shorthanded today since we're running the tests on the shields, but I'm sure we can manage. Maybe she's just playing hide-and-seek? There was the time she got into the water purification system, don't you remember?"

Delacourt sighed again. She remembered, all right. "Fine. Just do it at once." She sipped at her water, collected herself. It wouldn't do for the council to see her get flustered. "Now, about the shield test. There will be a twenty-four hour window which will be rather tight…"

~~~s~~~

"I got a case of beer says 'e takes out at least two dozen today, _boet_."

"You're on."

Crowe and Drake were getting bored. The boss had been gone for about an hour. There was nothing good to drink up here, nothing to eat but frou-frou stuff, and they weren't allowed to mess with the local women. Last time they had, they'd been officially reprimanded by the CCB. More importantly, Kruger had threatened to cut off their balls.

"Where d'you think he's off to? We better hurry and get out before they test this shield, eh? Might get stuck here otherwise," said Drake, checking his weapon yet again. Still ready to go.

"No telling. Better not to ask questions with the boss," Crowe grumbled. "We wait."

The _Raven_ hovered on one of the landing pads outside Elysium's armament factory. A trip up to the torus was normally a rare treat. Fresh air, pretty scenery, no one shooting at them. This time it was just a pain in the ass. They'd been woken up in the middle of the night at their apartments on Earth, told to get dressed and armed, and flown up without an idea as to what their mission was. They both knew anyway.

Any time it was a last-second situation, it meant a search and destroy. And it was usually personal. One of the CCB higher-ups on Elysium wanted someone, or more than one someone, dead. Kruger lived for stuff like that. He was currently inside the factory, getting fitted out for whatever he was being sent to do.

"I bet it's New Biafra. You know, all them insurgents?" Crowe suggested. "Poor bastards won't stand a chance once the boss gets down there."

"Dunno," Drake said absently. He'd started to get an itchy trigger finger but knew it was pointless to shoot at anything up here. "You figure the ice princess is behind this one? Or Patel, or someone else?" It didn't really matter who it was who'd ordered the mission. They got paid to follow orders, not think. That was Kruger's strong suit.

"Oi, look sharp. Here he comes," Crowe hissed.

Kruger exited the factory. He had been armed with one of the newer exo-suits, which had been drilled right into his body. To an outsider, it might have looked clumsy and heavy, but in reality it was light and maneuverable, constructed from titanium alloys. It would give him strength and speed beyond any normal human capacity. His weapons were strapped in place and he wore his favorite katana on his back. He was, uncharacteristically, smiling from ear to ear.

"We're going on a hunt, boys. Let's go play!" Kruger announced.

It didn't take them long at all. In a matter of minutes Crowe had fired up the _Raven'_s engines and they were streaking out of Elysium's airspace, through the gap in the shield, and toward the glowing Earth below.

~~~s~~~

"I'm sorry, Madame Secretary. No sign of her," the squad leader said through the comlink.

Six droids and more than a few people had spent the last hour searching everywhere possible for Lorelei. Helene's Versailles-like house, where the party had been held, the neighboring homes, even the lake adjacent to the golf course. If Lorelei was still on Elysium, she was somewhere far away from home, and well hidden.

"Check the gardens. The zoo. I mean everywhere," Delacourt ordered. Normally this would have been something she left to her sister. But Helene was increasingly fragile and scatterbrained. She was normally too busy watching holo-dramas or getting a high from one of a number of synth drugs to care for herself, much less her daughter. Even if she wanted for nothing, she was depressed, unpredictable, and moody. She was the kind of person who gave Elysium a bad name.

_The med-bays can cure anything, it seems, except diseases of the mind._

As for Lorelei, her aunt had already taken a personal interest in the girl. All children on Elysium were bright, but this one was exceptionally so, even if she was a mischievous prankster moreso than a proper lady. Lorelei had been sent to the finest school money could buy. She was trilingual and played the violin. And she was even a beautiful child, with corn-silk blonde hair and enchanting blue eyes. So why did she have to be such a handful? The girl had accidentally caused a Code 3 emergency the previous year just by sneaking into the command center. But she was one of Delacourt's only living relatives. That alone made her worth protecting.

"As soon as you find her, let me know. Now, back to the matter at hand. We'll be commencing the Aegis test in fifteen minutes. This will mean no entry in and out of our airspace for the time being, and communications may be somewhat limited. We're not entirely sure. Nevertheless, we will begin the countdown on my mark…"

~~~s~~~

"You hear something, okes?" Drake asked.

"Just your imagination. I don't hear anything," Crowe mumbled, keeping their trajectory straight. The instruments were green across the board, there was no space junk in sight, and no bogies like they got once in a while shuttling back and forth. Usually a flight to or from the _Grootwiel_ was a routine one which took about twenty minutes. For the last five or so, since they'd taken off, there had been a strange sound in the cockpit, like a puppy or kitten whimpering.

Kruger noticed it, too, though he'd been deep in thought about the mission. Finally, he was just curious enough to get distracted. The noise was coming from one of the storage compartments. He decided he'd had enough of it. Silently he drew his katana.

"Boss, we're about to hit the rough patch," warned Crowe from the pilot's seat.

Ignoring him, Kruger lifted the metal lid as if it weighed nothing. Inside was the last thing he would have expected. Not a puppy or a kitten or even one of those damn gen-engineered pet monkeys that lived in the trees now. Instead, he found himself holding the blade inches away from the throat of a small girl, who yawned and looked up at him with wide, guileless eyes.

"Are you a vagrant?" she asked. Not the least bit afraid, just drowsy, like she'd been napping.

Kruger stared down at her. The accent was posh, and so were the tailored sailor-suit school blouse and skirt. This was clearly an Elysium child, but where had she come from? How'd she gotten aboard? "What've we got here, eh?" He kept the katana steady, but pulled back a few inches in spite of himself.

"You talk funny." The girl giggled. "You _have _to be a vagrant. _Tante_ Jessica says all vagrants talk funny."

The _Raven_ shook suddenly. They were now going through the hottest part of the atmosphere, which was always a rough ride. Kruger stayed where he was…it was too late to strap in now…and simply hung on to one of the straps. The girl laughed wildly, like she was at a fun fair.

"This is so much fun!" she shrieked.

A moment later, when they'd come through the worst of it and the ship leveled out, two things occurred to Kruger. If this girl, with her porcelain looks, had an Aunt Jessica, she was probably Secretary Delacourt's niece. He vaguely recalled seeing her from afar once. And if the girl thought re-entry was fun, it meant she'd never been away from home before. Earth was no place for her…especially where they were headed.

"Boss, what the fuck we gonna do with that, eh?" Drake pointed out. "We got orders. We don't have time for a little _bakvissie_ like this."

"We turn around and take her the fuck back, I say," Crowe agreed, though he wasn't even sure they could with the shield up.

Kruger thought about this. To go back, he'd have to discreetly page the Defense Secretary on her emergency channel, which he'd been explicitly warned never to do except, well, for an emergency. It also meant blowing cover on what was supposed to be strictly a black op. He looked at the girl, then to Crowe and Drake. There was only one thing to be done.

"Patch me into that emergency channel, Drakey. It's Sierra-Juliet-four-two-niner…"

~~~s~~~

Delacourt had made a lame excuse to get out in the corridor alone. The comlink had been vibrating steadily for five minutes. She activated it and spoke softly. "Why are you calling me here?" she hissed.

There was only static and the sounds of a distant voice. When she tried to amplify it, nothing happened.

_Damn this shield test. We're going to be in the dark, comm wise, for the next day. _

She tried once more, and…

~~~s~~~

"…nothing. I'm not picking up _kak_, boss," Drake admitted after adjusting and re-adjusting the _Raven's _control panel. "Must be those defense tests, eh?"

"So why don't we just fly back? No harm done," said Crowe.

Kruger had been pacing back and forth like a big cat, the girl following behind him, mocking his body language. "Because," he growled, "the fucking shield is still up. No one's getting through that until they take it down, when the test is over. We can't just go back anyway without blowing cover. I'm sick of you both and your stupid ideas and…" He stopped. The girl, who was barely as tall as his midsection, had been gently tugging at a piece of his armor.

"What?" Kruger snapped. "What is it now, eh?"

"I have to go," the girl said.

Crowe and Drake exchanged a nervous look.

"And just where the fuck do you want to go?" Kruger shot back. The _Raven _was descending rapidly now, the curved horizon becoming straighter by the second. Then he noticed the girl's hands. They were between her legs and she was weaving back and forth. Even he knew what that meant.

"Drakey, take care of this _meisie, _right?" he snapped.

Drake looked confused. "Take care of her how, boss?"

"Look, unless you want her to piss all over this fucking ship, get something."

"Oh. Right." The gunner fumbled in one of the lockers for a moment and came out with a handful of dirty rags, which he threw at Lorelei's feet.

The girl stared up at him. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

Drake crouched down and handed the rags to her. "Change your nappie. Ain't that right? You need a change?"

"I'm five, not a baby. I'm trained already," she said, hopping up and down now. "But I really have to go."

"Idiot. Why do I have to fucking do everything?" Kruger snarled, pushing Drake out of the way. He spent a moment looking in the same locker, then pulled out a plastic bucket which had seen much better days. It was stained and smelled vaguely of stale beer, which made sense, being that he'd used it many times to vomit when nothing else was available. "'Ere you go. Piss all you want."

She wrinkled her nose. "Eew. I can't go in there. It's gross. Don't you have a proper toilet like on _Tante _Jessica's shuttle?"

Kruger glared. "This isn't the torus. Either you piss out the door like we do, _meisie_, or use that. But you're not making a fucking mess in my ship."

"Do I have to?" Lorelei whined.

_Three Minutes Later…_

"Turn around! TURN AROUND!"

"Honestly, boss, I thought she was done…"

"So did I. She stopped and all…"

Lorelei hadn't been able to hold it anymore. Since she'd never learned how to go standing up, she'd given up and squatted over the bucket. She had, however, insisted that all three of the men turn around and give her some privacy.

"That's so gross. There's not even any tissue. I'm telling _Tante _about you three when I get back home," she said, pulling up her skirt. She sounded just like a younger version of the Defense Secretary. "Where are we going, anyway?"

Now that she was finally done, Kruger had taken the seat next to her. He had to admit, she was sort of cute, even if in that bland, generic way all the kids from Elysium were. In fifteen years or so she might just be his type. On the other hand, she was spoiled and talked down to him like all the Elysians did. But she was also a precious commodity. She belonged to Delacourt…and if he played his hand right, there might just be some profit to be made from all this. Profit meant better weapons, better meat, and better beer.

That was worth putting up with a spoiled little nuisance like her for a few hours.

"Almost there, boss. Almost home," Crowe called from the pilot's seat. They were coming up fast on the southern coast of Africa over the Indian Ocean. "This one's for old times' sake, eh?"

"_Ja_, this one's gonna be fun," Drake said, shouldering his gun.

The _Raven_ was in its final descent, which meant before long they'd be in a live fire zone. There was still the little problem of what to do with a girl while they were off hunting, but Kruger had been thinking of that. He'd find a way. He always did. Worst case, they simply left her locked aboard the ship. But before that, he was going to need to make her understand certain things.

"You know where we're going?" he asked, looking down at her.

"I bet it's the Fairy Kingdom. I always wanted to go there," she said, her blue eyes dreamy. "I hope I get my own unicorn."

Kruger blinked. This one had been sheltered all her life, but she was still innocent, which he could barely remember being. She had absolutely no idea. So, he decided to play along for the time being. Let her get a bit shell-shocked, and _then_ see how much she wanted to tell her aunt.

"That's right. See that?" Kruger pointed to the white oryx logo painted on Drake's body armor. "Unicorns. Fuck me, that's good, Drakey." He laughed harshly.

His point man was taken aback, but picked up quickly. "Oh. Right. Unicorns that eat rainbows and shit gold, eh, boss?"

The ship was still descending. "Transvaal state war, boys. Get ready to come in hot," Crowe said, activating the landing sequence and arming the guns. "Not sure what we're getting into, so be prepared."

"Crowe's got that one right, _meisie_. The fairies don't always play nice, so you just stick with 'Uncle Kruger' and he'll take good care of you." _He'll also be swimming in good food and good weapons come tomorrow._

"And then do I get a unicorn? If I'm real good?"

The first sounds of gunfire could be heard in the distance. This was definitely more hot than cold. "If you're good and you do everything I say, and stay out of trouble, you can have a fucking unicorn or whatever you want."

Lorelei did the very last thing he would have expected. She tried to hug his midsection around his exo-suit. "You're so nice. For a vagrant without a real toilet, you're okay."

Kruger winced. These Elysium kids sure were strange.

_To Be Continued…_


	2. The Hangover

Chapter 2

"This doesn't look like home."

"That's 'coz it's not like fucking home, eh? Welcome to Earth," said Kruger darkly.

The patch of land Crowe had landed on was a barren, dusty stretch 20 klicks outside New Jozi. Only a few scraggly trees and a slightly curious mongrel dog off in the distance gave any indication of life at all. And of course, there was the sound of automatic weapons fire somewhere not far away. That was, after all, why they'd been sent. In this city, at the center of one of the fortified camps, an insurgent leader known only by the alias "Kgosi" awaited. According to the briefing, he'd taken out a number of the CCB's remaining assets at the core, and may have infiltrated the torus itself. No one was sure.

He needed to go. _With extreme prejudice_, the Defense Secretary had emphasized, which usually put a smile on Kruger's face.

He wasn't smiling now. This little girl was intolerable. First that business about insisting on an indoor toilet and unicorns (_where _did_ they come up with these things?_) and now, there was the question of what to do with her during the mission. Bringing her into the city wasn't an option. In order to collect any kind of reward, Kruger knew she had to be brought back without a scratch. Unharmed, period. And they weren't getting back to Elysium any time soon. Which meant that keeping her safe was up to him.

_Fuck_.

"Boss?" It was Drake. "I might have an idea what to do with the little one."

"What?" growled Kruger. "Y'mean give her some of the sleep tabs and leave her on the ship while we go get that _maaifoedie_ Kgosi?"

"It's a thought, but I had an even better idea, boss…"

"You know," said Lorelei, interrupting and stepping forward, "I'm right here. You don't have to talk like I'm not." With her hands on her hips and her little face so serious, she looked so much like her aunt.

"Fine, then. Listen all you want." Kruger switched to his second language, Afrikaans, as to not be understood. "What's this brilliant plan of yours, then, _boet_?"

"Remember that one chick? Rina? From the eastern township?"

"I remember her," Crowe said dreamily. "She gave me a pretty _lekker naai_ a couple months ago."

"Get to the fucking point."

"Well," Drake said, "see, she told me she always loved kids, and she's so good with 'em, so why not let 'er take care of the girl? She owes us anyway. For that diamond thingy we got her."

Kruger thought it over. If Drakey's whore was the same one he was thinking of, it wasn't such a good idea. Sweet, yes, and certainly knew how to show a man a good time, but absentminded. In a way, just as bad as bringing the girl into a hot zone. It was out. "No, _boet_. Got any other ideas?"

Lorelei had been sitting on the lowered ramp the whole time, listening in. "I know you're talking about me. I'm a big girl and I don't need a sitter," she said loudly. Though she didn't fully understand the mercenaries' strange dialect, she _had _received the requisite Germanic Languages download in school, and caught the gist of their conversation. "What's a _lekker naai_? Is it like sweets, or ice cream?"

The three stopped arguing and stared at her. Finally Kruger spoke.

"_Ja_, I guess you could say that." He grinned.

"So what are we gonna do, boss?" Crowe asked, speaking English again. "I don't wanna leave her here with the ship. She might, you know, wreck it."

"I would _not_," pouted Lorelei. "I'd behave."

"Boss, I grew up with four younger sisters," Drake admitted almost sheepishly. "I got experience, man. Just be all sweet like, and talk about princesses and ballerinas and _kak_ like that. It's easy. We can do that. They all love that stuff, eh?"

Lorelei lit up at this. "Do _you_ know any stories about princesses?"

"Does it _look_ like I fucking do?" Kruger said, getting impatient. They were behind schedule already. If it were up to him, they'd simply give her a double dose of the strongest tranq on board and leave her sound asleep until they got back. Too strong a dose, though, might kill or incapacitate her. That was out.

"Oh, by the way, _Tante _says we shouldn't curse. It's rude."

It was all he could do not to spit out every obscenity he knew. The girl, smart as she was, would surely report their every move once they got home. Delacourt usually gave him and his men a loose rein during their missions…but that might all change because of a five-year-old child and her idea of _manners_.

_Fuck it all._

"By the way, I'm hungry. Do any of you have something to eat? Maybe some of those finger sandwiches like at home? Or some starfruit? I love those."

Kruger ignored the girl, choking down his fury, and looked at his right bracer. 1030 hours, local time. They were late, but not terribly so. Besides, he was hungry too. Going into battle on an empty stomach was never a good idea. There were all kinds of survival rations on board the _Raven_. They were, however, dry and tasteless. He was in the mood for something with a little more substance after two days of _Grootwiel_ food. Scanning the surroundings with his enhanced eyesight, he spotted exactly what he was looking for after a moment.

"Drakey, you see what I see?" he asked his triggerman.

"Yeah, boss, I see it." Drake raised his rifle and fired a single shot. "Looks like the lunch bell just rang, eh, boys?"

_Twenty Minutes Later…_

There were several non-regulation items aboard the _Raven_ which Kruger insisted upon carrying everywhere they went. One of them was a _braai_ made from an old ammo barrel. You never knew when you'd have the opportunity for a real meal. He'd set it up outside and lit it. There was nothing like some good grilled meat to get him in the mood for a fight.

"What's that? It smells yummy," Lorelei said, watching him expertly flip the chunks of meat over the flames. She only rarely got meat at home, since her mother was vegetarian, and when she did, it had to be imported from Earth. There simply wasn't enough room on Elysium for smelly, dirty livestock.

"Let's just say it's a fuck…I mean, a bloody surprise." Kruger slapped one of the pieces onto a tin plate and shoved it across their makeshift table. "Eat up."

"'Bloody' is still a bad word," she protested. "Are you sure this is cooked all the way? I could get trichinosis. Or worms."

"I don't know about any tricky noses. Now shut up and eat, _meisie_." He glowered.

Crowe and Drake had already started shoveling their portions in with their fingers. They gorged on the charred meat, juices running down their chins.

"This is so _lekker_. Nobody cooks a dog like you, boss," Drake mumbled through his mouthful of meat, not realizing what he'd said until it was too late.

Lorelei's eyes were wet with tears. "This is _dog_?" She stared down in horror at her steaming plate.

"Well, it _was_. Just a _brak_. Nobody'll miss it."

"I'm not hungry anymore." She pushed it away. "That poor doggie."

Without warning, Kruger buried the point of one of his knives mere inches from the plate of meat. Even Crowe and Drake jumped a little. The girl's eyes were wide with fear, though she was trying desperately not to show it. She gulped.

"Look," he said, his voice dangerously low, "I didn't ask you to come along. I don't want you here. I'm not your fucking servant and I'm not your friend. While you're here, you do what I say. Now eat that; it'll put hair on your chest, eh? Make you big and strong?"

"I don't want hair on my chest," she sobbed, tears spilling down her little face. "And I d…don't want to eat that."

"Look, boss, you made her cry," said Crowe. "She'd just a kid."

"Yeah, c'mon, boss. She's all right," Drake added, trying to comfort Lorelei. He cupped her chin in one hand. "Don't worry about him, _meisie_. He just gets a little high strung when he's working. He's okay, really."

Kruger couldn't believe it. First he'd been unwittingly turned into a nanny for the day, now his own men becoming a pair of soft _moffies_. That was what happened whenever they went up to the _Grootwiel_. They forgot what life was really like down here. They forgot who they really were.

"I think she likes me, boss. See?" Drake bounced the girl up and down on his knee. She'd already stopped crying and had even begun to smile. "Just like when I used to watch my little sisters. It's easy."

_Ag, sies, man._ _Those insurgents are gonna have a good fucking laugh at us._

"If nobody else is gonna eat that," Kruger said, taking the knife out and spearing the meat upon it, "well, waste not, want not, eh?" He devoured it in a few bites.

"Ew. That is so disgusting." Lorelei looked away.

"Just like Ma used to make." He belched loudly. "Now, who brought the drinks?"

Crowe and Drake both pointed to the other. Then they realized, horribly, what it was they'd forgotten to stock when they'd been up on Elysium. The only thing that was more important than ammo or weapons or armor: Kruger's beer supply.

"You forgot the fucking booze? What do I pay you idiots for?" Kruger's dark eyes flashed and his hand strayed to his sword hilt.

"Now look, boss. There's plenty of water aboard, and we have some of that grape synth stuff that's not half bad…"

With a single swing, Kruger cut the rough table in half. "I don't want water! I want my fucking beer, and I want it right now!" He was practically hopping up and down with fury.

To everyone's surprise, including Kruger's, Lorelei hopped off Drake's lap and stood between them with her hands in the air. "Stop it!" she shouted in a strong voice for one so small, and he froze. "You need to behave. Even _I _learned that lesson in school. Do you need a time-out?"

He didn't know what a time-out was. All he knew was that, in order to fight effectively, he needed something with alcohol in it. And here was a small child telling him he couldn't have it. A small child who had become the de facto person in charge here. How in the world had that happened?

"I don't know about a fucking 'time-out.' I just need a beer. Is that too much to ask? Drakey, go check on board. There's gotta be something in there." Kruger was twitching now. He _always _had a beer with meals. Or more, depending on what was available.

"You could have some of my vita-water. It's really good," Lorelei said, taking a bottle filled with aqua-blue out of her pink flowered backpack. "Gives you all the vitamins and minerals you need."

"Is there alcohol in it?"

"Of course not. That's bad for you."

"Fuck, no."

After a moment, Drake returned from the _Raven_ with a large bottle of something in hand. "You're in luck, boss. Found this in the back of one of the stores. Does that look familiar to you?"

Kruger looked it over. Whatever it was, it was expensive: cut glass bottle, fancy script, almost certainly from Elysium and not Earth. Not the kind of stuff he usually drank, but…

"Is it booze?"

Drake squinted to read the fine print. "Looks pretty larney to me, but yeah, it's booze," he said, shrugging. "Dunno where it came from."

"Looks all right to me," Crowe said. "Booze is booze, right?"

"Then what the fuck are we waiting for, _boet_?" Kruger smashed open the top of the bottle on a rock. "Drink up."

"I don't think you should drink if you're taking care of me. Who's going to be the designated caretaker?" asked Lorelei, frowning at the three mercenaries as they each gulped from the bottle, passing it around.

Kruger wasn't really listening. The stuff was sweet, but potent. It was like nothing he'd ever tasted before. "The designated fucking caretaker," he hiccupped loudly, "is you, _meisie_. Knock yourself out because…"

He never finished, because at that moment he keeled over, sound asleep.

"Boss. Boss!" Crowe and Drake stumbled to Kruger's aid, but they too had been affected by whatever was in the liquor, and were snoozing in moments. All three of them lay on the dusty ground, tangled in a heap, snoring.

"I _told_ them they shouldn't drink that awful stuff," muttered Lorelei, and she emptied what was left of the bottle out. "They should have listened to me, because…"

She looked around. She still heard the gunfire in the distance. There was a war going on; this wasn't a game. What was going to happen if they didn't wake up? How would she get home? She'd flown a _Raven_-class ship on a sim once back home, but only out of curiosity and not for school or anything. There was no way she could take the controls of this thing and get all the way back up. Suddenly Lorelei felt very small and very, very afraid.

_People on Earth aren't like us. They're not civilized, Tante _Jessica always said. _They are barbarians_. Until now Lorelei thought that was like stories of monsters under the bed, to scare kids. Kruger and his men might have been barbarians, it was true. She'd never met anyone like them on Elysium. They smelled funny and talked even funnier. At the same time, she was curious about them. How did they move around with such heavy armor on? Where had they learned to shoot those big guns?

For the moment those questions had to wait. The first thing she had to do was try and call for help.

Inside the _Raven_, Lorelei made her way to the controls. She knew where the comms were and tried to get through to someone, anyone, at home. There was nothing except heavy static.

_Focus on what you can do now_, she remembered her aunt telling her. _Don't worry about what you can't do._

She looked inside her backpack. There was enough food for now, three bottles of vita-water, and…

Lorelei smiled. There _was_ something she could do now. The mercenaries were bound to wake up soon, and when they did, they'd thank her. She pulled out the plastic bag with its contents and went back outside.

_Two Hours Later…_

"What the hell happened, eh?"

"Dunno, _boet_. Wicked _babbelas_, that's what."

Crowe and Drake rubbed at their heads. The bright sunshine wasn't helping. One of the side effects of the spiked liquor was going to be a terrible headache.

"Just make sure the boss is all right, won't you?" Crowe said, then started laughing.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?" said Drake.

"I'm seeing things now. Your hair is all sparkly. And pink."

"You should talk, man. You got little rainbows and _kak_ painted on your face."

The both of them were starting to argue about hallucinations, but then Kruger groaned and raised himself to a sitting position. He never slept much, but whatever was in the drink had taken him out as much as anything could. He also had a headache to go with his already foul temper.

"What are you two fucking staring at?" he snarled at Crowe and Drake, who were obviously trying hard not to laugh.

Lorelei beamed. "I'm so glad you woke up. I was getting bored."

"What did you do while we were out, _meisie_?" said Kruger, afraid to hear the answer.

"I thought you might want a makeover. See? All of you look so nice now," she explained, and produced a compact mirror from her bag. "_And_ you smell nice."

Kruger was reminded of the last time he'd been in a med-pod. His hair was actually combed, she'd sculpted his eyebrows, and…were those _pink bows_ braided into his beard? Before, his armor had been standard-issue green and gray camo. Now it was decorated all over with finger-painted images.

"Boss, lookin' good," Drake said and wolf-whistled.

"It's an improvement, for sure," added Crowe, whose entire head had been finger-painted so that he looked like a human mural.

Kruger lifted one armpit and sniffed. Some fruity strawberry thing.

_I've had worse, _he thought as he ignored his men's laughter and shouldered his rifle. _These insurgents won't be laughing, though, when I get through with them._

"Come on. We're late," he snapped, all business. "You, _meisie_, on that ship. Now. Don't argue." Once Lorelei was safely out of earshot, he glared at Crowe and Drake, threatening with one finger.

"If either of you says a fucking word, he gets his spine ripped out through his arsehole."

_To Be Continued_


	3. Ice and Fire

Chapter 3

The _Raven_ was airborne again; Lorelei, the three mercenaries, and the _braai_ were safely on board. Crowe, his head and armor now wiped free of paint, kept the ship in a holding pattern just out of anti-aircraft range as they circled the dusty sprawl of New Jozi. Somewhere, in the jumbled maze of shanties and fortified compounds, was their target, Kgosi. The only question was where.

"Boss, even they've gotta know we're here by now," he said as he looked over the instrument panel. "I've got their main camp in sight, a couple klicks from the old CCB offices. The one they showed us in the sat briefing."

"Good." Kruger hadn't said much in the half hour or so since they'd taken back off. Crowe and Drake knew exactly what they meant. The boss was getting himself mentally ready for a fight. They just kept their distance and waited for him to take the lead.

Lorelei, though, was starting to get bored. There was always someone to talk to back home, even if it was just a stupid nanny droid or a holo. She'd never known anyone like these men. They _did_ talk funny, and smelled even funnier, but they fascinated her. They weren't anything like the boring men in suits _Tante_ Jessica spent her days with. Maybe they ate innocent dogs and drank and swore too much…but so did the pirates in all her favorite old-time stories, like _Treasure Island_ and _Peter Pan_. Those were the stories that she loved to read over and over. They were about adventures and dangerous quests, and they took her away from her predictable, sterile life up above. _Maybe that's what they are…like pirates?_

"Do you like rum as much as you like beer?" she blurted out, deciding that was a good place to start. Pirates always liked rum in those stories.

"_Ja_, when we can get it. We'll drink whatever we can scrounge up, eh?" said Drake.

Kruger scowled. It only reminded him that he still hadn't gotten his beer, just whatever had been in the bottle that knocked all of them out. If he'd been in a grim mood, this only made it grimmer.

"Keep us on course," he ordered, "and send the girls out. We need to get some visuals." He meant the battery of cam-drones they used on all their missions. "_Ag_, I've got a headache. Isn't there any fokken thing for it?"

"In the necessary, boss," Crowe said without taking his eyes off the flight deck.

He pushed a button and disappeared behind a sliding panel next to the bunks. Even over the sound of the ship's engines, a loud retching noise could be heard behind the door. Whatever had been in that bottle wasn't agreeing with him.

"Is he okay?" asked Lorelei, alarmed.

"Takes a lot more than bad _dop_ to get the boss down," Drake said. "He's a tough oke. He'll be fine, _meisie_."

She frowned, hearing Kruger retching again. "No, I mean, is he _okay_? He seems so mad all the time. Is it something I did?"

Drake, whose stripe of spiky hair was still much more pink than brown, sat in the seat next to the girl. She reminded him so much of his youngest sister, Flora. So wide-eyed and innocent, so unaware of all the pain and suffering and death that was life on Earth these days_. Damn _Grootwiel _kids in their plastic bubble of a world._ He sighed and put a hand on Lorelei's shoulder.

"It's nothing you did. See, the boss has a hard job. And he's been doing it for a very long time…how long d'you say, Crowe?"

The pilot shrugged. "Dunno for sure, since he never talks about it, but a lot longer than us, eh? Maybe a hundred years or so?"

Lorelei's jaw fell open. "A hundred years? That's so long!" It felt like forever for her just to wait six months for her birthday. She _was_ aware of the med-pods at home and the magic things they could do. Everyone, including her aunt, visited them regularly. It just never occurred to her they could make someone live so long. But then, she realized, all the people in her world looked young; there were no old or senile ones. Maybe Kruger, with his grey hairs, was like that man who slept for so many years… Rip Van Winkle? Or Sleeping Beauty, even? _Now that he looks so pretty, that fits even better. _The thought made her giggle.

"So if he's, like, over a hundred years old, is that why he's so cranky?"

Drake laughed nervously. Kruger's hearing, like all his senses, was greatly enhanced, so he had to be careful what he said. "No. He's just got his ups and downs. Like everyone, you know? Once you get to know him, stay out of his way, and don't piss him off, he's actually all right."

She thought about this. "He sounds a lot like my auntie, really."

Crowe snorted. "This one's pretty smart for a little _bakvissie_," he said darkly.

The hidden door slid open and Kruger stepped out. "What the fok was in that bottle?" He staggered forward, looking as though he wanted to retch again. "Remind me never to have any of that _kak_ again, Drakey."

"Right, boss."

"We have visuals yet?" Kruger called over to Crowe.

"Bringing them up right now."

"What are you staring at, eh, you brat? This is all _your_ fault," he snapped at Lorelei as he took the seat opposite her, unable to lean back with the exoskeleton on. The hangover had only darkened his mood. He'd been sent down for some _skop, skiet en donner_, and all he'd done so far was circle around, throw up some perfectly good meat, and play nursemaid to a spoiled girl. He expected hazard pay for all this once they got back to the _Grootwiel_.

Lorelei swallowed and forced herself to make eye contact. Her auntie said that was the first rule of not showing fear. She saw that, along with throwing up in the little room, Kruger had cut out all the little pink bows she'd made. His dark beard had ragged chunks missing, as if he'd hacked at it with one of his knives. His black, feral eyes shone like blazes out of his angular face. But she knew, somehow, that it wasn't real anger; just irritation. It was the same irritation her auntie had shown all those times when she begged for attention and was told "_maybe next time"_ or_ "not now, I'm busy_." When, on those few occasions she'd managed to catch her mother in a sober mood, and was flatly ignored, turned over to the care of droids and tutors. Lorelei knew all about irritated grown-ups. They were the only kind she knew.

Maybe Drake was right. Maybe she didn't want to make Kruger angry. But at the same time, his moods were amazingly transparent. _If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done that already_. _That means he's not going to._

"You're not pretty anymore," said Lorelei in answer to his question. "I thought you'd appreciate a makeover. My auntie says when people look nice, they act nice."

"I'm not in the fokken 'nice' business," he shot back. "And I can't be lookin' like a larny fool with pink bows when I get down there."

"Is that were you doing in there that took so long?"

"No, I was getting' that rotgut out of me. And takin' a piss. _Meisie_, you ask too many questions. Just shut up and let me get rid of this headache." He sighed. _Ag, I'm getting old when I'm more worried about a five-year-old than a bunch of _fokken _crazy Bantus with guns._

She frowned. "You said you didn't _have_ a toilet on your ship," she pointed out.

"I don't. Not a sit-down one. Just a stand-up pisser. We don't get many girls on board."

"You _lied_ to a child? What sort of person does that?" Lorelei wasn't buying it.

He snarled in frustration. _If I didn't have to keep this one unharmed and whole, I'd give her a _snotklap_ she'd never forget._ "I already told you, I'm not a very nice man. Your auntie and her sort pay me not to be nice at all. Has she ever told you about that along with your fokken' unicorns, eh?"

"But you _are_ nice. You've been nicer to me than most people at home."

There was a perfectly good reason for that, and Kruger was about to tell her what it was, when Crowe interrupted from the pilot's seat.

"Take a look, boss. What d'you think?"

Kruger and Drake studied the multiple readouts from the drones. One appeared to have been shot down or crashed; the rest were transmitting clear images. Kgosi's compound, the largest in New Jozi, was heavily fortified, surrounded by concertina wire, a thick wall, and what appeared to be land mines. Guards with automatics and flechettes prowled the perimeter everywhere. There were few, if any, opportunities for a ground assault. This one would have to come from the air.

"They only come in and out here," Drake pointed to one of the screens, which showed a jacked-up Humvee leaving the compound, "so if we're going in on foot, it's gotta be there."

Kruger studied the footage. He'd been in tighter spots than this before, like that one disastrous raid in Mumbai that had cost him both his legs. He had no desire to go through that kind of agony again, med-pod magic or not. Still, he had to give the bastards credit…they were learning, and they were well-armed. _This wouldn't be easy._ Some of the intel even suggested they'd even smuggled weapons and tech down from the _Grootwiel_ in recent years, though Delacourt was adamant they hadn't. There were some whispers the insurgents even had a mole on the inside…and that was something she always angrily denied. Kruger didn't care one way or the other. He'd turn Kgosi into just another bloodstain on the veld. That was what they paid him to do….and what he _would_ do.

"No footwork, except at the end, Drakey. But they can't stay in there forever, right? That's the weak link with compounds…they keep everyone in as well as out. Especially," Kruger said, his hand straying to one of the grenades at his belt, "when you force their fokken hand, _jy weet mos?"_

Crowe and Drake grinned. That meant they were going to rain down hellfire from the skies on the insurgents, and that was always fun. Like going at an anthill with a magnifying glass.

"You want me to get the stuff ready, boss?" asked Drake. The techs on Elysium were always experimenting with more lethal chemical warfare to keep Earth in line, and they were oh-so-eager to share it whenever the Defense Secretary asked. The specific payload the _Raven_ now carried was supposed to be the labs' best work yet; something ominously named _Ignemors_. Death by Fire.

"_Ja_. Send it down and let's see how long they fokken want to play." Kruger had to admit he was a little disappointed; he always enjoyed carrying out his directives in person whenever possible. Of course he might still get to. He just had to be patient.

"What am I supposed to be doing for all this?" asked Lorelei, causing all three of the men to stare at her. In their talk of battle plans and assaults, they'd all but forgotten about her. "Do I get to help?" She'd played plenty of the war-game sims back home (always without _Tante_'s knowledge, of course) and knew, at least in practice, how to take out a compound like the one below them now.

Nobody spoke for a moment. "I can try to get through to the _Grootwiel_ again, boss. What d'you think?" suggested Crowe, even though he already knew it would be useless. He'd been sending signals on a steady ten-minute interval since they entered Earth's atmosphere and gotten nothing.

"No. Let me handle this." Kruger wanted to kick himself. What _was_ he supposed to do with the little brat during an assault? Drugging her was out. Locking her in the bunk, or the storage unit where they'd found her, seemed to be the best, and safest, option. She had to be brought back home in one piece. That much was unquestionable. Otherwise Delacourt would have all three of their heads on a plate. Such a tiny, helpless-looking slip of a girl she was, like a kitten, and yet such a _nagmerrie_, a nightmare. She was really a lot like her aunt, just much smaller and more talkative. And that irritated him all the more.

_In another fifteen years or so, she _will _be just my type. Damn._

"So? Does that mean I get to help?" The girl was practically bouncing with excitement.

Kruger knelt so that he was eye-level with her. He gave her the same stern look that had caused many of his captives to shit their pants, though she hardly blinked. _She's got the same ice in her veins her dear auntie Jessica does, too. Unbelievable_. "You are going to do exactly as I say, _klein nagmerrie_. If you don't, it might get you fokken killed, and you're no use to me dead." He was going to explain the concept of reward money and ransom, but figured it didn't matter. Lorelei probably knew that already, smart as she was. She was a Delacourt, after all.

"What do I do, then?"

He smiled wryly. There was one question that had been bothering him during this accursed mission, and he decided now was a good time to ask it. "Tell me this. Why'd you sneak aboard this ship, anyway? Don't you have enough fun on your fokken _Grootwiel_?"

The answer Lorelei gave shocked him, and Kruger wasn't used to being shocked. "I was really lonely. Nobody pays any attention to me at home. I'd seen your ship come in on the radar screen and I knew you came in and out a lot, so I ran away. To have an adventure, like Mr. Baggins did in _The Hobbit_. I know, stupid, right?" By the time she'd admitted it, her blue eyes were swimming with tears. She was desperately trying not to show it…but she was afraid.

On the _Raven_'s readout screens, the compound was ablaze with an unnatural blue-green inferno. Insurgents, turned into human torches by the Ignemors barrage, screamed in soundless agony as they fled in vain. The _whoomp_-_whoomp_ sounds of anti-aircraft fire were audible as Kgosi's soldiers tried to bring the hated ship down.

Kruger vaguely remembered a time, so very long ago, when he'd been that small. He'd wanted nothing more than to run from his little shanty hut, to go hunting with sharp sticks and disembowel little veld creatures before eating them. It helped him forget who he was, where he came from, and how he'd never be able to leave the squalor that was home. _Fok, man, in my old age I'm getting sentimental._ He gritted his teeth and tried to shake it off, but as he looked at Lorelei's sad little face, he found he couldn't.

"It's not stupid, _meisie_. We always want what we can't fokken have."

Somewhere behind them, in what sounded like another time and place, Crowe and Drake whooped and high-fived one another as they watched the insurgents die.

"Did you see that, boss?"

"He ain't goin' nowhere, eh?"

"That bastard's gotta be comin' out soon. Then the boss is gonna have some fun with him."

The ground attack wouldn't be long now. Kruger knew what he had to do. He didn't like it, but it was the only option left.

"You said you wanted to see some fokken unicorns, eh?" he asked Lorelei.

She nodded eagerly. "More than anything."

Quick as a puff adder striking its prey, Kruger drew the stun gun from his thigh holster and shot the girl with a wicked blast to the midsection. She crumpled instantly to the floor, blue eyes still staring.

"If you wanna see some unicorns," he said softly as he scooped her little body up and placed it in the top bunk, "you're gonna have to take a fokken nap. And stop talking so bloody much."

_To Be Continued_


	4. Ambush

Chapter 4

"Incoming, boss!"

"I fokken see it, you don't have to tell me!"

There was always a problem with using chemical weapons: to get low enough for them to be truly effective, the _Raven_ had to come just within reach of the anti-aircraft fire. And whatever Kgosi had down there was brutal. The shields were barely holding. A couple more hits like that one, and they'd be flying defenseless.

If the deadly blue-green firekept working, though, they wouldn't need shields. They wouldn't even need the _Raven_ and its powerful arsenal. The people down below were dropping like flies. The mercenaries would be able to kick the door in, find the rebel leader, and finish things once and for all.

"What do you want us to do about those land mines when we hit the ground?" shouted Crowe, who'd skillfully swung the ship around to miss an RPG from below.

Kruger gritted his teeth. He had no time for stupid questions. "Don't fokken step on any?" he said sarcastically. The last time he had, three years ago in Mumbai, he'd been laid up for a week. A week of lying helpless on a bed, being fed through a tube, and treated like a baby. _No wonder the little _nagmerrie _wanted to escape from there,_ he thought grimly.

Aside from his next-gen exoskeleton, Lorelei was the most valuable commodity on board. Right now she was out cold, stunned but not hurt, sealed away into the top bunk. It was no safe haven but it was the best they had. Kruger hated to even think about what would happen if the impossible happened and the insurgents took the ship. If they found out who she was, and took her hostage…did the _Grootwiel_ kids have those citizen trackers when they were that little? He couldn't remember. What would happen if she did, and they saw the name "Delacourt" on her readout?

_Then the Defense Secretary won't just have my head. She'll have my balls too._

Finding Kgosi and killing the bastard was their primary objective. Keeping Lorelei unharmed was right behind. And Kruger didn't plan on _anyone_ taking his ship.

"Open that port-side door, Drakey. Let's give these little fokkers a taste of that railgun, eh?"

Outside, chaos reigned. Dozens of insurgent corpses, most scorched to bone and ash by the Ignemors, covered the dry ground outside the compound walls. The ones that still lived unleashed everything they had left: automatic fire, grenade launchers, even some crazy guy with an old-fashioned pistol. Kruger took aim behind the railgun and with one pull, ended the cowboy's life with a violent spattering of viscera.

"You like that one, you _skaapie_?" he called down, seeing a couple of the others running for cover. Kruger had to hand it to the Elysium weapon-makers; they always knew what he liked. He roared his battle cries along with the big gun and took out another man, cutting him to bloody ribbons.

"Boss, I think we got 'em. That gate's as open as it's going to be," Drake said, trying to be heard over the sounds of battle. "If we hurry we can get in."

"I got a decent LZ three hundred meters away. No mines in sight," added Crowe.

"Then let's go down and play, boys!" Kruger didn't need to be asked twice.

Crowe started the landing cycle and they swooped toward their position.

~~s~~

The three of them hit the ground running, Crowe and Drake with their favorite Chemrails in hand and Kruger just behind with his katana and energy shield ready, just in case. The insurgents were on the ropes now. No Earth-made automatic could match the superior technology of the _Grootwiel_, and the ones who hadn't fled already were being picked off like fish in a barrel. It didn't even matter that the Oryx Squadron was outnumbered. They had all the firepower they needed and then some. The gates, set ablaze with the pure, intense heat of the Ignemors, were smoldering and swung wide, as if waiting for them to arrive.

"I thought," Crowe said, vaporizing a skinny guy up on the wall with his gun, "these sons of bitches were supposed to be tough!"

"So did I!" Drake hurled a grenade over the wall, and it blew a gaping hole in the thick concrete. "More like a bunch of little girls, eh?" He suddenly realized what he'd said, and quieted.

Kruger stayed silent, a deadly shadow loping right behind his men. The few insurgents he came across that still breathed…walking wounded, most of them just kids… he each dispatched with a quick, practiced swing of his blade. Normally he enjoyed _kak_ like that. Lived for it. Today it just felt tedious, even boring. "Let's get inside that fortress. No fokking around," he barked. What he didn't say was how uneasy he was about leaving the girl alone, unconscious, aboard the ship. Yes, there were shields and electro-locks in place. Yes, no one who managed to somehow get aboard was likely to find her, even if he knew exactly where to look. Every bit of intel on the _Raven_ would show a three-man crew. Their bases were surely covered; Kruger didn't like to make mistakes.

A strange feeling had been gnawing at his gut since he'd stunned the girl, the _nagmerrie_ who never stopped talking and annoyed the piss out of him. Kruger didn't know quite what it was. It couldn't be fear. Even if he'd once known fear, his many years of training and experience had leached it out of him. Not worry, either. They might come out of this one a little banged up, some scratches and bruises, but that was to be expected even with the best weapons and armor. _What the fok is it, then?_

"Boss. You wanna go in first?" Drake's voice shook him from his thoughts. The boys had cleared the front of the compound completely. It was a bloody, fiery, scorched charnel. Not one insurgent still moved. Kruger hadn't even had to fire a shot himself. He'd been too busy thinking of the girl.

_Don't tell me I actually care about the little _nagmerrie. _That's taking it too far. She's worth money to me, and that's all I care about. That's that…now back to fokken business._

"Let's find this _maaifoedie _Kgosi and show him a little Boer hospitality, eh?" Kruger said, gesturing with his katana. Then, muttering to himself, he added, "And maybe if we're really lucky, there'll be some beer in this place."

~~s~~

Inside, the compound resembled so many that the Oryx Squadron had raided over the years. It had been some rich son of a bitch's at some point; traces of grandeur were visible underneath the warlike facade. A shattered courtyard fountain here, imported marble tile there, a statue of some goddess without arms standing, amazingly intact, amid the slaughter and ruin. Whoever the owner was, he was either long-dead or gone off to live on the _Grootwiel_. There was nothing living in sight, only dozens of dead rebels and several slaughterhouses' worth of blood. Not so much as a curious vulture.

That was what bothered Kruger so much. Silence in a war zone meant one of two things: either one side had defeated the other, or else something really fokken bad was about to happen.

_Like an ambush. Or a trap._

"Drakey? You picking up anything?"

"No, boss." His triggerman walked on point, scanning the labyrinth of rooms with the infrared scopes on his rifle, looking for any traces of body heat which would indicate someone still alive.

"This is fokken creepy, eh?" Crowe echoed Kruger's thoughts. "Where'd they all go? I mean, we killed so many of 'em, but the intel said there were at least three hundred. I know we ain't seen that many."

Kruger nodded. That had been his impression, too. These insurgents were not known to have any aircraft, and the _Raven_ had blown every one of their _bakkies_ and makeshift tanks to useless bits of metal. None of their briefings had said anything about a hidden room, or tunnels, or any of the tricks these bastards usually used to get out of trouble. But they had to have gone somewhere. People didn't just disappear.

"How many rooms left to search?" he asked Drake impatiently.

"Maybe twenty more. This place is _in sy moer_ and that fire's still going in some of it. It's messing up my readings, eh? Don't think this thing was made to deal with chem fires."

They made their way from the main compound into a wing. It might have been a garage for the departed owner's fleet of antique vehicles, or a shuttle hangar. The insurgents had used it much the same way; it was now a chop-shop full of half-finished tanks and trucks cobbled together.

"Blow these fokkers up, Drakey. If they're still here, they're not getting out in these," Kruger pointed with his katana.

"My pleasure." He was about to pull the pin on a grenade when Crowe interrupted.

"Wait a sec, boss. I think my scope's showing something."

There was a definite shape hidden behind one of the vehicles. Small, and curled into a ball, but bright orange, not green or blue. A live one, after all.

"Come on out, _boet_. Nobody's going to hurt you," lied Drake, leveling the Chemrail and drawing a bead. "We just want to talk, eh?"

Silence. The body stayed where it was, but the scope showed a heartbeat pounding away.

"I said, come the fok out! Now!"

Before any of them could fire, a dark-skinned boy of maybe ten stood up from behind the truck. His hands were raised in surrender. He had no weapon, and, aside from a loose cotton loincloth, no clothes. He looked underfed, filthy, and absolutely terrified.

"I give up. I give up," he said in thickly accented English. New Jozi slum kid, from the sound of him. Native-born. "Please don't hurt me."

"Boss, I should shoot the little bastard. They've used human bombs before," Crowe said softly to Kruger without taking his eyes, or his rifle, off the kid.

None of their scanners showed any trace of explosives, not so much as a wire. The kid, whoever he was, was clean. The clever ones sometimes broke into these places to steal food or scrap metal or anything else they could get. Maybe it was as simple as that, but every nerve in Kruger's body told him it wasn't just some scrounger. This one knew something, and he would find out what.

"You tell me the fokken truth or my boys here gonna mess you up bad." He indicated Crowe and Drake, who still had their weapons poised and ready. It wasn't his normal SOP to do this to kids; he didn't like scaring the poor buggers. He remembered too well what he'd seen at that age and tried to forget. Another part of getting old was years of accumulated memories. "Where's your boss? Kgosi?"

"I…I don't know a man called Kgosi, _Umlungu_," the kid said shakily, using the mock-serious Xhosa term. "There is only the Chief who lives here. I do not know his name. I am only a servant. Please, do not shoot me." He was sobbing now.

Among Kruger's many bioupgrades was a lie detector of sorts. Through his facial implants he could visualize the many signs of deception: flushing, increased body temperature, subtle tics. This _boytjie _was scared shitless, but he wasn't lying. "This Chief…is he still around?"

"Yes, _Umlungu_. If the bombs and fire did not kill him. He is, how do you say?" The boy pantomimed limping. "Does not walk."

Now it was Kruger's turn to be excited. Their target was a _cripple_? This was going to be easy. "Where? If you lie, or this is a trick," he flicked the katana blade, "I get some fresh _boerewors_ tonight."

Crowe and Drake exchanged the tiniest glance. Kruger could tell they both wanted to shoot, but he made the hand gesture for them to stand down instead. He pushed the sword's blade millimeters from the boy's throat and saw his dark eyes go wide.

"We'll let you lead the way. That way you can point out any of the booby traps to us, eh?"

~~s~~

"How much further? It's so fokken hot in here."

"It is close now."

The boy had taken them down two flights of narrow stone stairs, the katana blade right at his back. So far he'd been good to his word. No booby traps, no mines, not even a simple hidden wire or spike trap. No signs of reinforcements on the bioscanners.

They had to be going to the basement. All the rich bastards used to have one in these places, whether to keep wine or little rooms for who knew what. They always gave Kruger claustrophobia. He'd been raised in the blue sky and open spaces of the Highveld, not in some ant farm. How the _Grootwiel_ people managed, he'd never know.

At the bottom of the staircase, after what seemed like forever, the boy stopped. "This is it," he announced.

Kruger was confused. The room, or what was left of the room, was empty. Just a circular stone chamber. Who knew what it had been in the past? "Where's your fokken bossman, eh? I've had enough of this _kak_," he snapped.

The boy called into thin air. "Chief, it is Gozi." He paused. "There are three men with guns, Chief. They want to talk with you, I think."

A hidden door, which none of them had seen, opened. Out came leathery man in fatigues, wheeling slowly. A quick scan showed that neither he or his chair was armed or booby-trapped. The facial recognition software indicated a statistical match with the few drone surveillance photos that had ever been taken of the enigmatic rebel leader. He was older than anyone had guessed, but there was no mistake about it.

This was Kgosi. And he sat before them completely helpless.

"Why are you here?" he croaked in a gruff voice. The accent was thick but easily understood.

"Shut up. We do the talking, _ouballie_," Kruger said. "Your _boytjie_ here thought we should meet. You've been causing a lot of trouble and we're here to see that you stop."

"Have I?" Kruger couldn't tell if the old man was senile or else being a wise-ass. "You see, I am old. I have seen many things. Some things I forget, but some are clear to me. Am I really the troublemaker here?" He blinked. "Your kind, on the other hand. They kill my people, my brothers and sisters. They rape and torture and burn without thinking. And why?" Kgosi shrugged. "Because we are not like you. Because we are poor. There are many reasons, but you never question why. You only kill."

No one had ever dared talk to Kruger this way. _Well, at least no one who lived_. "I could fokken kill you right now. But I want to make it slow, so you'll enjoy it all the more, eh?" he hissed, feeling his rage boiling to the surface.

The old man's complete lack of expression unnerved him. "Go ahead and try, _igxagxa_."

They'd all made a mistake. They'd taken their eyes off the kid, Gozi. He withdrew some sort of electronic box from his loincloth and pushed a button.

That was when the room exploded.

In an instant, piercing, inhuman shrieks rent the air and seemed to wrench all the oxygen from it. Kruger felt every bit of metal in his body as a tiny bit of nuclear hellfire. Crowe and Drake, who didn't have half as many implants, fell to their knees and howled like dying jackals. They writhed on the stone floor, rifles forgotten. Kruger, with a surge of strength even through the haze of agony, activated the energy shield run through his mini-generator. It only flickered briefly, then shattered like glass. The katana clattered to the floor and he, too, screamed.

He felt what sanity he had left going along with it. The last conscious thought he had before the darkness fell was that now, even he would surely die.

~~s~~

Lorelei opened her eyes.

She couldn't see a thing. Her first thought was that she was dead, because this had to be a coffin. It was tight and pitch-black and…

_It smells like _beer _in here, and throw-up, and sweat._ _I don't think coffins smell like that._

She tried to remember what had happened. Kruger had done something do her. Her head throbbed and, because of the tight space, she fought not to panic.

_He shocked me. Like the droids do when you misbehave…only that was worse._

She fumbled around, hoping to find a light switch of some kind. There was no telling where she was, but she needed to get out. She'd had her nap and, while she hadn't dreamed about unicorns, she _did_ really have to pee again and didn't want to do it in here.

Besides, Kruger owed her an apology.

_To Be Continued_


	5. Dark and Full of Terrors

Chapter 5

"Maybe this one…"

Lorelei felt like one of the little extinct lab specimens in their glass cases back home, trapped behind glass. She pushed a button on the wall of the bunk. Nothing. This was a multi-million-credit, _Raven_-class gunship with every upgrade, and she couldn't even figure out how to get out of the sleeping quarters. One button had activated earsplitting noise which she guessed was Earth music. Loud rap in the same weird language Kruger and his men spoke. It was still going; she hadn't been able to turn it off again. Another button had activated a holo-film. That one she'd watched for a moment, thinking it was might help her, until a lot of women, none of whom wore any clothes, started showing up. It was still going too, and the strange moaning and screeching noises they made forced Lorelei to stuff little pieces of her blouse in her ears. Pure torture, and definitely _not_ instructional. One more thing she'd have to tell her aunt about when she got home.

_If_ she got home.

That thought was new. The fear was a rat gnawing at her guts, desperate to get out. Never before had Lorelei felt so far away from her pink bedroom, her dolls and all the comforts of home. This was supposed to be an adventure. _Didn't all the heroes in my books have happy endings whenever they went on adventures?_ This was supposed to be her adventure. To see the world below. Since before she could remember, _Tante_ Jessica had warned her how miserable it was on Earth. How they, the Elysians, were the fortunate ones, how they'd never have to worry. But that didn't stop her from looking down every night at the blue jewel of a planet and asking questions.

_But why can't I leave? Do I have to stay here forever? It looks so pretty down there._

_Appearances are deceiving_, Tante _had said. You are safe here. That's why you have to stay. It is because we love you. For your own good._

Lorelei forced herself to swallow the fear. That was another idea that had been drilled into her. _Stay calm_, _even if you don't _feel _calm_. A twist of a small lever which she hadn't seen before, and she fell awkwardly from the bunk onto the _Raven_'s floor. Thankfully the thumping music, and the holo-film, shut down as well. She stood in silence, rubbing her head where it had made impact.

Kruger wasn't there. Neither was Crowe or Drake, though their sweaty, dirty odor remained. She had the ship to herself. Lorelei didn't know whether to feel scared or excited. Maybe a little of both. "Are you guys just playing hide-and-seek? If you are, won't you come out?" she called, just making sure. Nothing. They were gone.

The faint green glow of the control panel beckoned to her. It was in shutdown mode and only the emergency power was on. The shields were up. The only monitor still online revealed nothing but growing darkness outside. Lorelei wouldn't be able to fire up the ship if she tried; every last one of CCB's vehicles had a DNA-enabled security lock. Only the mercenaries could do that. There was something she could do, though. She climbed into the pilot's seat and expertly tapped at the boards. The system responded after a moment and she smiled. She was in.

Sneaking around the many layers of Elysium's cybersecurity had become a hobby for her. All of her classmates were schooled in the various tech sciences; for Lorelei it was second nature, one of the few subjects she looked forward to. It was fun besides, more fun than any holo ever could be, and it gave her the ability to go a lot of places she shouldn't. If her aunt had known, it might have been grounds for a memory wipe, which normally only the worst of the illegals got. Thankfully she didn't.

"Griffin's Nest, this is _Raven_ oh-three-oh-two-one, requesting emergency assistance," Lorelei parroted the phrase she'd learned in all the war-game sims she'd played. "Griffin's Nest, do you read? This is kind of a…" she tried to think of the right phrase, "code red-two. Is anyone there? I need help."

She'd already be in serious trouble anyway for running away. Nothing could make it worse. Trying to call _Tante _on the back-door emergency frequency, though, was strictly out of bounds. For all she knew, Kruger and his men could just be out for a minute. Maybe they would come back. And then she'd not only feel stupid, but she'd really be in trouble for blowing their cover. It was hard to imagine anyone getting angrier than Aunt Jessica. Lorelei guessed Kruger would, and then some.

_And what if they don't come back_? the little panic-rat asked. _Then what will you do?_

Lorelei scanned the readouts. She wasn't getting a response from home. She hadn't really expected to. Then something caught her eye. In the lines of code flashing rapidly by, the anomaly was there for an instant, and then gone. She couldn't say for sure what was different, only that it was. Elysian code was very different from the stuff used by the many illegal hackers down on Earth. Maybe that had been it. They were _on_ Earth. No doubt they were picking up all kinds of interference. And the shield tests were still on. There was no telling. She shrugged and hopped off the chair.

She really had to go now. The plastic bucket seemed like her only option, since she didn't want to get locked into the tiny stand-up loo where Kruger had gone before. She didn't even know how to open it. The bucket was still in the corner where he had shoved it after its last use, still wet. _Oh, well, I can just hold my nose._

After taking care of business and moving as far away from the fouled bucket as possible, Lorelei weighed her options. If she went outside, she'd be going into who knew what, and the bad men might find her. That was out. She could wait here…but who knew how long that might be? She had no way to fly the ship. It was darkening fast. As she paced back and forth, the strangest thought flashed across her mind.

_Kruger either doesn't want to hurt me…or he can't. I think I'm worth something for him. He'll look after me. I know he will. But where is he? How long was I asleep?_

She was ready to climb back into the bunk to look for anything useful when the ship rocked violently sideways, sending her sprawling to all fours. The _Raven's _force shield only barely muffled the loud explosion that went with it. Someone was outside. Lorelei could hear their voices now. At least three. Angry, loud. Deep. They were trying to get in, and they were succeeding.

_That isn't Kruger. These men _will _hurt you. Maybe worse. You have to hide, _screamed the panic-rat.

Like a cat, Lorelei scrambled to her feet and silently bounded into the shadows. There was a second storage trunk next to the one she'd come down in. No time to think; she pushed the lid aside and climbed in. The smell was thick and musty, and it was dark with some sort of folded fabric taking up most of the room. Lorelei hastily wrapped it around herself. _Pretend you're a mummy, like in ancient Egypt_, she willed herself, though her heart was galloping away. _Not a sound._

She heard the intruders before she saw them. There was another huge explosion and a crash, as if the _Raven's_ side door had fallen in. No explosive she knew of could break through a force shield. These guys meant business. Then there were footsteps. More than three. They were arguing in some language Lorelei didn't understand. Gathering her courage, she pushed the lid aside and looked out through the tiny gap.

Tall, coppery-skinned men in fatigues prowled the ship. One of them, maybe the leader, barked out commands as the others searched. All held old but lethal-looking guns. Lorelei couldn't make out what they were saying. Some things just needed no translation, though. She heard the intent in their words.

_Look for passengers. And if you find any, kill them._

Her breath caught in her throat. One of the men had come across the latrine bucket. He was looking at it curiously as if to say, _this is still warm. _She wanted to kick herself. Then, another picked up something to show his boss. Lorelei's heart almost stopped.

Her pink backpack. The one with all her things in it. The panic-rat was gnashing away with his nasty little teeth.

One of the intruders turned in her direction. As quietly as possible, Lorelei let the lid fall and snuggled deeply into the folds of the fabric, engulfing her body. He could be here any moment, and when he did, he would know Kruger, Drake and Crowe hadn't been the only ones on the ship. He'd kill her.

_Don't find me, don't find me_, she chanted away in her head. It was silly, like the games she used to play with the other kids. Now it was a matter of life and death. The only chance she had.

When the lid lifted, she knew it was over. She wondered how they'd kill someone like her, someone so small. Would they shoot her? Burn her over a fire like Joan of Arc? Feed her to their dogs? Lorelei trembled violently inside the folds of fabric. Whatever it was, it would be painful. She summoned every ounce of courage she still had and prepared for the worst.

Nothing happened. The man's hands brushed at the edges of the fabric. Then he let the lid go and she was in darkness once more.

She dared not move. Outside, she could hear the men arguing away. Then, as quickly as they'd come, they left. Somewhere on the ship's exterior, two more muffled explosions were audible. She waited and waited. _Maybe they were going to blow it up_. Thankfully they didn't, and, when her heart had finally stopped pounding and she could breathe again, Lorelei climbed out of her hiding place. She kept the fabric wrapped tightly around her. It was warm, strangely lightweight, and it made her feel somehow safer.

_Maybe this is a magic cloak, like the one Harry Potter had in those books? Maybe it turns me invisible! Even if it doesn't, I may need this later. _Lorelei hitched up the long garment and tiptoed back toward the pilot's seat.

The control panel, which had been all green, was now awash in red. Whatever the men had done, it was bad, Lorelei could tell. At least one of the rear engines, maybe both, were useless. Hard to say with all the silently flashing alarms.

If they were going home, they weren't going to be flying. At least not in this ship.

"I'm not afraid," Lorelei said out loud, even if the tremor in her voice betrayed the thought. She repeated herself. "I'm not afraid," and this time, the wavering was lessened. If she was going to help the mercenaries, and she was sure they were in some sort of trouble now, she knew she had to be brave. She'd have to go outside and face the unknown in her special cloak. If she ran into any of the bad men, she'd just have to be prepared.

And for that, she'd need a weapon.

~~s~~

"The _umlungu_ is awake!"

Kruger groaned and opened his eyes to find that the world had been turned upside down. It took him a moment to focus and realize that he, and not the earth, was hanging in reverse.

"Did you sleep well?"

The speaker was a woman, young, dusky-skinned and proud-looking. She stood mere feet away from him and seemed not the least bit concerned. Surrounding her, in a semicircle, were half a dozen men of assorted skin tones, all with Earth-made assault weapons trained on him. Kruger, furious, snarled and reached up to free his bound feet, only to find that his hands were similarly bound. He thrashed and thrashed but finally came back to his hanging position, helpless for the moment.

"I asked you a question, _umlungu_. It is polite to respond," the woman said. Her voice was low and calm and that pissed him off all the more. "You are my guest."

Kruger spat out a stream of foul obscenities at her. If she had been two feet closer, he'd have gladly reached out and snapped her neck like a twig. As it was he couldn't do a damn thing.

_What the fok did they do to me? I feel like I've had the _kak_ kicked right out of me._

"I don't think he's going to answer, _Utatomkhulu_. Shall I teach him some manners?"

The old man in the wheelchair…Kgosi…was sitting off to the side, Kruger saw. He nodded, and Kruger felt the same excrutiating sensation he'd felt right before blacking out. Not as bad, he knew, but enough to make every muscle in his body, along with the implants, silently scream for mercy. When it was over, the mercenary gasped like a fish out of water.

"Just…just fokken kill me. Don't drag it out," he said when he'd caught his breath. "Or are you afraid? Cut me down and let's see, eh?" He was, even bound, more than a match for any Earth man or his technology. All he needed was an opening. That, and for them to stop pushing that fokken button. That wasn't Earth-made. Couldn't be. It had reduced him to a quivering ball of nerves…and only Elysian stuff could do that.

With an ironic smile, the young woman shook her head. "Why would I do that, Mr. Kruger? I can call you that, can't I? You're valuable to me…and to my brothers and sisters." She swept her arm to indicate her troops…one of whom, Kruger saw, was another woman with very short hair. "No, I won't kill you. Yet."

A thousand thoughts rocketed across Kruger's mind. These were the insurgents, all right. Something had gone terribly wrong. He'd walked right into an obvious trap. That never happened. And then it hit him. The one thing Delacourt had told him before the first mission he ever ran for her. _You're not just a valuable asset to CCB, Agent Kruger. You are, in essence, a multi-million-credit piece of equipment carrying extremely sensitive data. If the day comes when you are ever compromised, you will know what you have to do. That data is the lifeblood of this station, and it matters much more to me than your life. Equipment can be replaced, after all. _

That _bitch._That heartless _bitch_. And everyone said _he_ was cold-blooded.

Of course. They wanted the mind data dumps from him…the ones that had been illegally downloaded to his brain without much of a thought, the ones that could possibly be Elysium's one weakness, the ones more precious than any diamond…and they would get them by any means possible. Not bad for slum dwellers with old Russian automatics.

"At least get me the fok down from here. I've got a fokken headache," Kruger complained. He could taste the blood in his dry mouth. When was the last time that had happened? He would have given anything for a drink of water.

"Yes, about that. Must have been your little indulgence earlier. Did you enjoy it? My friends tell me it's one of your weaknesses, and it was specially made for you."

He was silent. A strange feeling coursed through his veins. Kruger realized it was dread. "That fancy _dop_ from my ship? The stuff that knocked us out? That was you?" He couldn't believe it; he laughed at the sheer absurdity of it.

"Of course." The woman smiled her sphinx-smile. "My friends and I have been watching you for some time." _The mole. So it was true, after all._ "You are so predictable, _umlungu_. Drinking and whoring, those are your vices, and your men's. Your masters in the sky-city, always using your brute strength and your weapons to keep us all in line. Never caring that they kill innocents." She was maddeningly just out of his reach. "Those days are at an end. Our day is come now."

Kruger wasn't afraid. Any of the fear had long since been bred, beaten or bled out of him. He was only angry. This woman, with her bunch of skinny misfits, telling _him_ what to do? "Go ahead and fokken try, girl. The minute you get into their airspace they'll shoot you down." Normally that was his job, one he greatly enjoyed. "Or maybe you just cut me down and I teach your boys here a thing or two? Save you the fokken trouble of your little people's revolution, eh?"

From his wheelchair, Kgosi grunted. "This _umlungu_ is stubborn, Nonceba. We will not break him, I think. Even the tempest," he said, pointing to the small device which had caused the blackout, "only slows him. The men in the sky-city have done something to make him so strong, yes?"

"I think otherwise, Grandfather. He will break in time," said Nonceba, reaching out a slim hand and brushing Kruger's rough face. "See? He is old, much older than he looks. If our friend has carried out his mission, it will not matter. The brute will only age quickly, until soon he is dead. And his men with him. Then why will we care? We will only need what is inside him, the machinery from the sky-city. So hard to get here. It will finance our cause and make us strong."

Kruger shuddered despite himself. How much did these people know? If they knew about his true age, and the many times he'd been regenerated over the years, then they'd found one of the few chinks in his armor. The tightness in his body, the unaccustomed pain, the nausea…all were familiar to him, though he'd always been able to fix the wear and tear of war in a med-pod. There was no med-pod in sight. Who knew how long he had before the rapid aging set in, especially if they'd spiked that liquor with something? He could be in some real trouble.

These people, slum dwellers or not, had the upper hand for now. Kruger would have to simply wait for an opening.

"At least get me out of here. I'm not a fokken piece of meat and I'm no use to you hanging like one, eh?"

"Of course. You are our guest, and we are not savages like you. Take him to his quarters," ordered Nonceba. With a rough thump, Kruger crashed to the ground. Three of the soldiers surrounded him and forced him to his feet, hands and feet still tied. They made him march along, shuffling awkwardly, down a long, dark hallway.

_I had to go and get fokken drunk. Any other day I could have bent these _konte _in half with one hand behind my back. Now look at me. Weak as a fokken kitten…and it's setting in quick. I need a plan._

"You best not try anything, _umlungu_," one of the men said in his ear.

"Oh, don't you worry, _boykie_," Kruger grinned despite the pain. "I'll come back and find you so we can play. If you're not too busy, of course."

At the end of the hall was a room that might have once been a wine storage facility when the previous owner lived here. Now it was simply an empty cell. One of the men swiped an electronic passkey to open the door, then shoved Kruger roughly inside, where he collapsed onto all fours, heaving.

_I'm not just going to need a plan. I'm gonna need a lot of fokken luck to go with it, _he thought before dry-heaving up the last contents of his stomach.

_To Be Continued_


	6. Promises, Promises

Chapter 6

Only two guards stood watch over the cellblock. That had been easy to figure out after a little bit of cheeky trash talking (_that always seemed to work, for some reason_) and a lot of help from his heat-sensor cheek implants, one of the upgrades they hadn't been able to physically strip away from him. Kruger had a bad feeling he knew where the rest of the insurgents had gone.

Elysium. Naturally. Where every fokken insurgent on Earth wanted to go. They had the means to do it, the power to override the torus' servers, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it for the moment. He swore at them loudly in both Afrikaans and English, goading and taunting, emptying out his sizable barrel of profanities and inventing a few new ones as well. Maybe they'd make a mistake and give him that opening he needed.

"Shut up in there, _umlungu_. Or we'll make you shut up," one of them snapped, pounding at the door for emphasis.

"Go ahead," Kruger coughed, tasting more blood in his bone-dry mouth, "come in here and fokken try, eh?"

Silence. They may have been slum rats, but they were smart enough. They knew what would happen if they opened that door for an instant. The only glimpse Kruger had gotten outside was from the tiny cat-flap at the bottom of the door. So far they'd only given him a filthy plastic bottle half-full with water, which he'd sucked down gratefully. No food. That wasn't what worried him, though.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this drained. And it wasn't just the normal wear-and-tear fatigue he felt after a battle; this was deeper, as if his very tissues were being eaten away, cell by cell. It was something in that spiked bottle of liquor that was doing this. Messing with his elaborately spliced genetic code. Had to be. Kruger swore under his breath. He never slept more than a few hours at a time. Now he felt like he needed to sleep a full day just to recharge and be rid of the pain. And he needed a med-bay, sooner rather than later. He needed to get back to the _Grootwiel_.

That wasn't going to happen unless he came up with a plan. He had to escape and make it to the _Raven._ Through the agony, Kruger was finding it hard to breathe, let alone strategize.

_How had they gotten an inside man to begin with, and how long had he been feeding information? _he kept asking himself. _And who knows what kind oftop-secret intelligence they were able to get? _They would, if the mole had been placed within CCB's inner circle, know all about his many regenerations, upgrades and, of course, his long list of war crimes. That would make it personal for them. And there was the matter of the vast reserves of classified information stored unwittingly in his own head. The insurgents were probably well on their way now to downloading and retrieving all Elysium's deepest secrets...and its weaknesses. Data was the true key to the kingdom, not weapons or ships or the latest droids. Kruger had never stopped to consider the ramifications of what the Defense Secretary had done to him all those years ago. He was a mercenary, a soldier, not a spy. When you never planned to die, secrets were only an afterthought.

_Now it's going to bring me _and _the torus down. I always thought it would be some lucky bastard with a well-placed grenade, and not a hacker, who did me in. _

Kgosi's insurgents were going to kill him, one way or another. That much he knew. He was expendable to them now. They'd prefer to do it with an audience when he was still alive, of course, and make it slow. Tear out the biometrics with scalpels and knives, piece by bloody piece, like some demented _muti_ ceremony. Try to capture his strength for themselves. He smiled darkly. All the machinery was calibrated exclusively to his DNA. They'd just wind up with some useless bits for their chop shop, or a very expensive souvenir.

Then he'd be able to give them one final extended middle finger, even in death.

"Boss? You in there?" The voice interrupted Kruger's thoughts. It was muffled and distant, but unmistakably Crowe's.

Kruger had somehow overlooked it before: a tiny ventilation shaft at the top of the stone wall. Must have been to air out the wine or whatever the hell they used to keep in here. "_Ja_. Never better," he said thickly back, rubbing his sore jaw. "How're they treating you, boys?"

"They made us feel right fokken welcome," Drake's voice answered. "Broke out the blunt objects and the _sjambok_ and even the electro-prods. I tell you, boss, all that's missing in this place is the little chocolates on the pillow." He sounded hoarse and tired.

_Torture_. _They hadn't done that to him, at least not yet_. _Probably wanted to keep his mech components intact._ "Either of you okes get a look at the layout on the way in?" Kruger said, keeping his voice low.

"Yeah. This place is a fokken maze. We're maybe one level down from where we kicked in the door, on the southeast side," Crowe said. "_Raven_'s on the far end, locked, but they'll have found her by now. She'll be under guard. Not gonna be easy getting out, eh?"

Kruger nodded grimly to himself. Two skinny guards were easy enough to handle on a normal day. This wasn't a normal day. He still needed to get his weapons and armor back, especially in his weakened condition, to have any chance of escape. "You notice an armory? Ammo dump, anything?"

Drake called back. "These buggers aren't that creative, boss. Picked it up on the scanners right next to that hangar place we were in earlier. Not much there, mostly antique Earth-made _kak_, but if we can get out…"

That was a big _if_. Kruger was feeling weaker by the minute. No doubt his men were in similar condition. Maybe worse. "I'm open for suggestions, then. How d'you think we're getting the fok out of here?" he said, annoyed.

No answer came back. It wasn't surprising; deep thinking had never been the boys' strong suit.

"What should we do, boss?"

Kruger was about to snarl out a sarcastic response, when somewhere, as if in answer to the question, came the rumble of an explosion. It had to be close; the stone floor and walls of the cell vibrated horribly. Through the door he heard the shouts of the two guards. _Yeah_, _that was a close one. Maybe the _fokkers_ accidentally blew up one of their own_? he thought with dark glee. The first blast was followed by another, closer, in short succession. More shouts, some of which sounded painful. _Walkyr concussion grenade, my own custom design. I'd know that sweet sound anywhere. _Then Kruger stopped in his tracks.

The _Raven_ had been stockpiled with dozens of those highly lethal grenades. Oryx Squadron was, to Kruger's knowledge, the only fighting force anywhere who used them. Meaning somehow the insurgents had gotten aboard and found the explosives.

_But why would they be blowing up their own _fokken _compound, right before they make for Elysium? That makes no sense. _

Summoning strength from his deep reserves, Kruger stalked his little cell, looking for any vulnerability the blasts might have caused. If it were there, he'd find it. Just getting out was half the battle. There was nothing, not even a crack in the solid stone walls. If he'd still had the exoskeleton, he could have simply punched a hole through his confines. He didn't; the insurgents had roughly stripped it and all his other armor off. He had been reduced to a mere mortal, and it was starting to piss him off.

"You hear that, boss?" Drake's voice came through the air shaft again. He sounded excited this time. "Sounded like a friendly to me."

"Gotta be close, too," added Crowe. "Who d'you think did it?"

The cat-flap at the bottom of the door jiggled open. Kruger thought he was seeing things, then it moved again. He crouched low to the ground so that his head was eye-level with the opening. It might just be the guards…but then, it might not, with all the chaos outside. Pushing it open tentatively, he gasped at what he saw. Outside, floating in midair like a ghost's, was the disembodied head of the girl. She was grinning.

"I can't believe I found you guys! I did it all by myself!" Lorelei's head squealed. "'Course, I could smell you all the way down the hall. When was the last time you had a bath? Ew."

Kruger, stunned to see her, scarcely heard the insult. He suddenly realized what was causing the strange illusion. _Of course…that smart cloak prototype. The one the weapons guys made for me but I never wore. True invisibility, makes you undetectable by any scanner on Earth or the _Grootwiel. _Only one like it. Too _fokken_ fancy for my liking, and besides, I always liked the bastards to see my face when I made a good kill. _The brat must have gotten out of her lockup in the _Raven_ and found it in the storage containers, then somehow, against all odds, made her way in here. This was the opening he'd been waiting for. He hissed out at the girl through the cat-flap.

"Get us out of here, _meisie_, and hurry the fok up, eh? Those guards will be back."

Lorelei pursed her little lips. She looked as if she were trying to decide something. "Maybe I will. But you have to promise _me_ a few things first, okay?"

This was unbelievable. He'd been talked down to, nearly pissed on, compromised on a routine op, and rendered all but useless in less than twenty-four hours. Because of this bratty little Elysian girl who'd decided to run away from home. She'd ruined everything. Now she had the audacity to blackmail him? He wanted to hit something.

_That girl is just like her auntie, the manipulative _doos_. No wonder she's got practice._

"Fine. What are your 'demands,' then?" It was everything he could to to keep his temper in check. If the girl's name had been anything but Delacourt, Kruger would have gladly beaten her to a pulp had he been able to reach her. He forced a smile and peered at her through the little gap.

She smiled back mischievously. "You need to stop swearing so much. Even if you are pirates, it's not nice to talk that way in front of a child," she said pedantically.

"Not likely. This is a fokken war zone, _meisie_, and I can't promise you something won't slip out." Kruger bit down on his swelling fury. "What else?"

"Okay, then. At least try? And you all need to take a bath. 'Cause, you know, you guys kind of smell really bad. Your ship is like stinky socks, only much worse, and" Lorelei lifted up one of her invisible arms under the cloak, "this thing is _really_ ripe. When was the last time you had it washed?"

He was about to tell her _never_ but figured it was pointless. When you lived up there, everything was always washed for you by servants you never had to see. Clean water was precious and scarce on Earth and Kruger had never seen the value in wasting it on something so trivial. "You don't smell so good yourself, in case you're wondering. Fine. We'll have a fokken bath. Get on with it," he growled. _The guards are gonna come back and laugh their fokken arses off at me if they see all this._

Lorelei paused. "If I get you out," she said, "you _have_ to get me my own unicorn. I always wish for one at my birthday and Christmas but I never get one."

There was no telling where he'd get one of those, but time was running out. Kruger nodded. His head was starting to throb along with the rest of his body. "_Ja_. Fine. Just shut up and get me and the boys out, and we'll get you a fokken unicorn."

"Use your manners! What's the magic word?" sang Lorelei.

_How was a little girl able to piss me off even more than those fokken insurgents? _Kruger hissed "Please" through gritted teeth. He couldn't remember the last time he'd used that particular word.

From underneath the smart cloak, Lorelei's invisible hand emerged. It clutched one of the Walkyrs, and she slid it into the cat-flap opening toward Kruger. "Here you go. You might wanna cover your ears. These things are really, really loud."

~~~s~~~

Loud was an understatement. That was just one of the things Kruger loved about the Walkyr grenades: they created huge openings where none previously existed. They weren't as fun or elegant as some of his other toys, but they were effective. In seconds the explosive had blown the prison door off its hinges. His ears ringing, Kruger emerged into the dim hallway. The instinctive clock inside told him it was nightfall by now, even if the only light was the dim glow of the emergency lamps. Insurgent camps never had been much for big electric bills.

The guards hadn't been back. Either they'd cut and run or joined the main raiding party. In fact, the silence was deafening. Kruger stood beside the girl, whose head was still floating eerily with the rest of her body hidden. That unnerved him somehow.

"What else you bring with you, _nagmerrie_?" The smart cloak and the grenades were a start. With those, Kruger knew he'd at least have a chance. They had to hurry, though. He was losing strength quickly. Dark spots swam in his vision. If he wasn't careful, he knew he might lose consciousness. _Those bastards knew how to hit me, all right. _

"It's in here," said Lorelei, producing her pink backpack. "I just brought stuff I could carry. You know, you have more than your fair allotment of guns on your ship. Do you have a CCB permit for all those?"

Kruger ignored her; she was sounding like her meddling aunt again. No railguns, no heavy artillery, no body armor. Those weighed much more than the girl herself did. Kruger opened up the backpack and rifled through its contents. Half a dozen more Walkyrs. An older comm pad she had somehow gotten to work. Some of that blue vita-water Lorelei had mentioned earlier; Kruger gulped down a whole bottle before Lorelei could say a word. It wasn't half bad. A piece of metal he recognized as an ancient Earth-made tire iron. And…"

"You've gotta be fokken kidding me. I'd forgotten about this one." His face split into a grin despite the pain. "You see this?" He held up a tiny, Asgari-branded, silver pistol no bigger than his palm. "Know what it does, girl?"

Lorelei squinted at it. "It was the only gun I could find that I could carry," she said apologetically, shrugging. "I don't know much about them. Is that bad?"

"You'll see." Kruger tucked it into his empty thigh holster. "For now, let's get the boys out."

A minute later he'd wedged the tire iron into the next doorjamb, where Crowe and Drake had been locked up. His men tottered out into the hallway, dazed and blinking away cobwebs. Drake's face was a vibrant, bruised purple to match his ragged pink Mohawk, and Crowe sported prod burns all up and down his brawny arms. Both of them, like Kruger, had been stripped of their armor and headsets and wore only fatigues and boots. The Oryx Squadron had seen better days…but they were alive and walking. That was what mattered. They had a chance after all.

"Howzit, boss?" Drake flashed a lopsided grin. His top eyeteeth were both missing. "These bastards know how to make a man feel welcome, eh?"

"You don't look so good either, boss. What'd they do to you?" asked Crowe, his eyes wide.

"Nothing I can't get around. The _meisie_ here brought us some presents," he said, indicating Lorelei. "It's polite to share, you know."

She obliged without a word, passing out two of the grenades to each of the men. Drake hooked the tire iron in his belt and Crowe picked out a retractable baton. "We make for the armory. See if that's where they've stashed our regular _kak_," Kruger ordered. "Then, if we get that far, to the _Raven_, eh? See if she's flyable." He was still wondering where the hell the guards were when Lorelei tugged at his shirt. "What now?" he snapped. If she said she had to take yet another piss, he was afraid he might lose what little composure he still had.

"I think…I think I got hit by one of the bombs," Lorelei said in a small, quavering voice. "I just noticed. See?" Now that she'd finally put aside the smart cloak, her entire body was again visible. There, on her left leg, was an ugly three-inch bit of jagged metal embedded in her pale flesh. Blood trickled from the wound, staining her pristine white socks. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, as if it were somehow her fault.

Kruger stared at her angrily, his eyes going from the gash to her terrified face and back again. Maybe she'd just been in shock. Adrenaline did that to a person. But this wasn't part of his plan: for him to get any reward money, the brat had to be brought back to Elysium unharmed. Now they'd have to catch up to the insurgents _and_ give triage. All three of them were trained, of course…it just wasn't something Kruger ever enjoyed doing. He'd leave it to the boys. They'd just have to patch her up, look for a real med kit, and hope for the best. _I hate to admit it, but I admire the little _nagmerrie's _spunk. Most men would be crying like little babies with a wound like that. Not me…but I'm not most men. She's got to be tougher than she looks if she's walking around with that._

"Drakey, get that fokken shrapnel out and tie a piece of cloth around it for now. You carry her. Drag her if you have to…but we have to get the fok out of here before reinforcements arrive. Have her drink some of that vita-_kak_." He was actually feeling slightly better after drinking the blue liquid. It wasn't beer, and he was still in a foul temper, but thirsty, injured men weren't wise to complain.

"This is gonna hurt, girl. Sorry about that," muttered Drake, kneeling down beside her. With one swift motion, he pulled out the shard. Lorelei winced but did not cry out. _That girl has nerves of steel for sure_, thought Kruger_._ There was little blood, but Drake tied it with a piece of his shirt to seal the cut. "There. You did just fine. Remind me to give you a sweetie later, eh?" He patted her on the head, then scooped her up in his arms.

"Thanks. It didn't really hurt," Lorelei said, accepting the vita-water bottle he offered.

_So fragile, and yet so valuable_.

"Lead the way, boss," Crowe said, baton in hand.

"I think I will. And I think," said Kruger, picking up the discarded cloak, "I'm gonna borrow this after all, eh?"

_To Be Continued_


	7. A Clean Start

Chapter 7

"Where the fok did everyone go?"

It wasn't the first time the question had been asked. As the three men of Oryx Squadron made their way upward through the labyrinth of the compound, they hadn't run into a single insurgent. There were hot spots where the Ignemors still burned, plenty of gaping holes created by mortar fire, and more than a few corpses, but not a single living soul.

Kruger wasn't particularly worried about it. He walked on point under the cloak, Asgari pistol in hand just in case. He, with his boys as backup, could handle any slum rats that came at them even without the usual armor or weapons. They had the superior strength, experience, and training. Besides, he was feeling strangely rejuvenated after drinking the bottle of blue water, like he'd been given a synth upper. Nowhere near full strength, but definitely better. The Elysians knew their stuff when it came to chemistry. Drinking artificially flavored _kak_ wasn't why he was still pissed off.

The girl. The damn _nagmerrie_ had thrown a monkey wrench into this mission. She wouldn't shut up, though he'd told her to at least half a dozen times since leaving the cellblock. Sitting atop Drake's shoulders, she kept going on and on, her train of thought jumping the tracks entirely and going off in all directions. Kruger wished he could strangle her, or at least staple her lips shut. He kept telling himself there would be a reward when and if they got her back home. _No reward is worth putting up with this_…._not beer, not weapons, not even credits._

"…and I'm going to tell all my classmates what an adventure I had today, and how I got my very own unicorn. I bet none of _them _could say that." She couldn't see him, but she was talking in his direction anyway, as if she knew how much it bugged the _kak_ out of him. _Just like her aunt._

"You ain't got one yet," Kruger reminded her, nudging a slender corpse underfoot with his invisible boot to make sure the young man really was dead. "_Ag. _You call that there a fokken adventure, _meisie_?"

Lorelei didn't seem bothered by all the dead bodies they'd encountered. "I've played the war sims lots of times. And I've had biology course downloads in school. I'm not a baby, okay? I can handle it."

Kruger was about to tell her there was a huge fokken difference between real wars and the silly holo games they played up on the torus, then figured it would just make her babble some more and make his ears bleed. He stayed silent. _Strange girl, this one_. _Course, I'd seen plenty of 'em by the time I was her age, and they never bothered me neither. Most Elysian kids faint at the sight of real blood. This one hardly blinks._

Beside the dead rebel, Crowe knelt down to check whether the man's modified AK-47 was still loaded. "Empty, boss," he said after a quick look. "No clips either. Thought it was worth a look."

"Woulda been nice to have a real weapon if we're gonna fight back," Drake agreed. He felt more than a little foolish with only a tire iron in hand and Lorelei weighing him down. "D'you think they've got our _kak_ still in this place?"

The makeshift armory in the hangar had to be somewhere close. If they were going to find their armor and weapons, he was betting it would be there. Kruger's built-in sense of direction was usually unerring, but he didn't know where he was going now. He'd been out of it for a good chunk of the day. "How much further to their fokken chop shop?" he snapped at his men. They'd reached a T-junction and he had no idea which hallway to take.

"Dunno, boss. We're as fokken lost as you. We better make it fast, since they got a head start," said Crowe, and Drake nodded in agreement.

Kruger knew they were right. Time was not on their side: the insurgents were probably on their way to invade Elysium by now. Maybe they'd already gotten in. His outnumbered squad still had to arm themselves, escape this damn compound, get back to the _Raven, _and plan a counterattack of their own. That would take time they already didn't have. _Fok._

"Right it is, then. Look sharp, boys, and kill anything that fokken moves. I've had enough of this place."

"Does that include me?" Lorelei asked, worried, from Drake's back.

"No. Now, for the last time, shut up."

~~s~~

Already, Kruger knew he'd taken the correct path. It was the air. That subtle difference between below-ground and above-ground. It still reeked of smoke, cordite, and blood, not to mention the usual mélange of putrid odors on Earth, but his senses could easily pick out the difference. "Hurry up. We're getting close," he ordered, stepping over a body burned down to bones by the blue-green fire. He remembered this part of the compound. They'd been here before, just had come in from the opposite direction. They'd be there in under a minute if they didn't run into trouble.

Behind him, he could hear Drake murmuring assurances to the girl he carried on his shoulders. _Fok me if he's not going soft. Next thing you know, we'll be sitting down to a fokken tea party and wearing dresses with our _kloots _cut off. _The brat had clearly taken to his gunner. Which was fine with Kruger; it meant he didn't have to touch her or clean up her messes or otherwise deal with her aside from telling her to shut the fok up and, hopefully, trading her for a good chunk of credits. _Drakey, _jou bliksem_, I never knew you were so good with kids, eh? Maybe you'll wind up with a whole brood someday, if you ever get out of this._

"This is it, boss," Crowe said, panting, as they drew to a halt outside the tall double doors. "After you, then, eh?"

Kruger pulled off the cowl of his cloak and took aim at the electro-lock with his Asgari. He was about to squeeze the trigger of the little pistol when the girl interrupted. "Wait a sec. I don't think you have to use your gun," she said, rummaging through her pink backpack. "Or those," she added to Crowe, who was holding a grenade in one hand.

"And why the fok not?" Kruger snarled. He'd been all too eager to use the weapon.

Lorelei pulled out the old comm pad, the one she'd brought from the _Raven, _and tapped away at it. "'Cause it's easier just do do this. See?" The control pad beeped and there was a click as the lock disengaged. "Less noisy, too."

That must have been how she'd been able to get out of the _Raven_ and into the compound in the first place. Well, that, and the stealth cloak couldn't have hurt. It was nevertheless a mental note Kruger made. _Might come in handy when, and if, we get back to the _Grootwiel_. I never had much patience for that kind of _kak_. Of course, their systems are a lot fokken harder to get around than some second-rate warlord's._ Kruger only grunted, neither indicating approval or disdain, and kicked open the door.

No one seemed to be inside. The place was a cavern, though, and there were lots of hiding places. That had got them into trouble earlier.

"Search it, boys," Kruger said, covering his head so that he was invisible again. "Drakey, you go left, Crowe, right. I'll clear all these vehicles, eh?"

Drake reached up and squeezed Lorelei's hand. "Sorry, _meisie, _you're gonna have to get down now. Perimeter sweep time."

"That's okay. I'm," Lorelei yawned, "getting kind of tired anyway. It's gotta be way past my bedtime."

"Just stay behind me. Don't make a sound. You see any trouble, you hit the floor. Understand?"

Another yawn. "I can do that." She fell into step behind him, silent for once. He stalked ahead, the tire iron still in his hand for lack of anything better.

The room was full of interesting things: weapons, components, dozens of assorted Earth-made vehicles in various states of repair. A typical chop shop, only much bigger. The problem was, all of the stuff had been stripped, modified, or simply taken apart. Under the cloak, Kruger scowled and picked up a casing. _Asgari…the bastards were using Elysian weapons._ Most of this _kak_ was useless to him even if he'd had the time to put it all back together. If his squadron was going back up, they needed their Elysian-made armor and headsets. He desperately wanted his exo-suit back. His body still ached all over where the insurgents had roughly ripped it out.

He also noticed their shuttle, the one flyable vehicle in the place, was gone. _How far ahead of us are they? Maybe the little brat can find out with her comm, if she's hacked into their system, be useful for a change…_

"Hey, look at this!" Lorelei's startled squeal echoed across the room. "Wow, so cool!"

Kruger had nearly vaporized the workbench next to him. Only years of experience held him back. Just a false alarm. _That's why these fokken kids should be seen and not heard. _"What's she on about now, Drakey?"

"Room's clear on this side, boss. C'mere and have a look."

The three of them converged next to an ancient Land Rover up on blocks. "What the fok am I supposed to be seeing?" he asked. The vehicle wasn't in running and it sure wasn't going to fly them back up to Elysium. Kruger was seething now. Every minute lost was precious.

"No, not the truck, silly." The girl giggled. She didn't seem to be yawning anymore. "Behind it."

He looked. There was only a pile of more junk, some chicken bones, and a large round vat full of water he could only guess at. "I'm in no mood for your fokken games, girl," he growled, leveling the pistol at her. "You have any idea how much I'd like to use this right now?"

Kruger wasn't sure what was more disturbing; the fact that she'd annoyed him so much he was now considering shooting her and forgoing any reward, or, perhaps, that she barely registered surprise, let alone fear. She just looked up at him with those wide, guileless eyes and smiled. "It's a _hot tub_. You promised you'd take a bath, remember?"

Behind him, one of his men snorted. When he wheeled around to see which one, both looked at the ground. "Sorry, boss," they chorused together.

"I don't have fokken time for this. We have to find a way out of here," said Kruger irritably, "and that can wait."

"No, it can't." Everyone, including Kruger, stared at her. People who said "no" to him wound up dead… if they were lucky. The girl was insanely brave, naïve, or just plain stupid. "Do you have any idea what you all smell like? And your ship? It's," she thought for a moment, "like garbage and smelly feet and just…_ew_. So gross. I can't believe I'm still alive." Lorelei wrinkled her nose.

_Not that she would know what a _real_ stink is like. Everything up there smells like fokken roses._

"What if I say no, little _nagmerrie?_"

Lorelei stood her ground, hands on hips. "Then I'll hold my breath until you do. I can't breathe your stinky smell anymore. Or do you want me to tell my aunt you never take baths?"

Either Crowe or Drake chuckled again.

Kruger wanted to tell her it probably _wasn't _the three of them she was smelling. Earth was just a shithole. The place stunk. As for Delacourt, she didn't give a rat's arse whether he and his men bathed or not; she only cared about body counts. He decided it would take less time to get in the tub for five minutes then to explain all of that to the brat, who'd probably just ask more questions anyway. _That, and I don't fancy her asphyxiating right here. _

"Get in, okes. And be quick about it," Kruger snapped, gesturing with the pistol. He could see Lorelei's triumphant smirk from the corner of his eye, but said nothing to her.

"What about you, boss?" asked Crowe, already stripping out of his shirt and pants.

"I'll fokken wait for you. I'm not cramming myself in there with your ugly arses. Besides, someone has to stand watch. Now, get."

The gunner and the pilot, stripped down to their shorts, clambered into the hot tub. "_Eish, _this is cold. Don't suppose this fokker works properly, eh?" Drake said, messing with the knobs. "Haven't seen one of these in years."

"Dunno. Hand me that cloth, would you?" Crowe splashed at the water. He didn't care if it was cold; it was clean and refreshing.

Lorelei, meanwhile, had sidled over next to Kruger. She was like the Defense Secretary's Persian cat, the one who always seemed to gravitate to the one person in the room who hated it most. "Now you'll all smell so much better. I love baths, don't you?"

"No." Kruger refused to look at her smug face. He also couldn't remember the last time he'd had a water bath instead of the infra-kind. It just wasn't the kind of thing he thought about in the field.

"You never asked where the bad guys went," she said, playing with her comm pad. "Want me to show you?"

He had to admit he was curious about that. With a sly smile, he snatched the device from her little hand. "Gimme that." Ignoring her squeals of protest, Kruger looked over the readouts. She was good, all right: she seemed to have counterhacked into the Kgosi network without being noticed. Most of it was gibberish to him, as Earth-based code went, but the insurgents' gist was clear. _0100 hours…internal assault…catastrophic damage…_

"Hmm." Kruger spoke almost to himself. "Doesn't say what the fokkers are intending exactly, but it's easy to read between the lines, eh?" Most of the time, illegals just wanted the usual things. Med-bay access. Sneaking into the citizenship rolls with fake IDs. Kgosi's raiding party, if he was guessing right, was after something else entirely.

_They want to bring down the fokken torus, and its ruling order, entirely. With what they got out of my head, that might just be possible. Only a few know all that top-secret _kak.He frowned. "And how'd you get rid of the insurgents, _meisie_? There were at least a few fokken guards left behind."

The girl grinned from ear to ear. "I put in a line of code about a really bad virus being released out of your ship as a last defense. You know, one of the ones from the labs that spread like crazy. There are lots of those in the sims, so I just picked one."

"Let me guess, _nagmerrie_. Ebola? Weaponized anthrax?" Kruger had only limited knowledge of the CCB's biological warfare program, as it wasn't a tactic he particularly liked to use, preferring the good old-fashioned gory results of explosives and sharp objects. Still, most of the insurgents and gangsters from the Old Country were superstitious as fok. They knew firsthand what the plagues could do. They would have run for the hills at the first whisper of a bioattack, leaving the prisoners to their own devices.

Lorelei shrugged. "It was that new one…what was it called? The one that came out of Congo in 2134? I just randomly chose it…"

"Lisala-4." Kruger finished for her. "No fokken wonder they took off." _That one was a nasty bitch, and nobody lasted long who came down with it. They'd have taken their chances, cut and run. Clever. Wish I'd thought of that._

"Boss, we're almost done here," Drake said from the tub. "You're up next." He sounded almost happy, like he was enjoying the cleaning process.

For a moment, Kruger realized he hadn't been furious with the girl. She'd done something useful for a change instead of chattering away and getting his squadron into trouble. Once he was reminded of his impending bath, his mood swung back to fury from its brief respite.

In the tub, a loud _braap! _sound broke the silence and bubbles floated to the surface of the water. When Kruger turned around to glower at his men, both of them pointed to the other.

"It wasn't me, boss. Y'know what happens when Crowe here eats dog meat…"

"_Ag jou hol_, mate! It's you who's got the gas problem!"

Lorelei's laughter, surprisingly unladylike, echoed like mad in the hangar bay. She was doubled over, hysterical with mirth. It was a good thing there weren't any insurgents left in the compound, because every one of them would have heard her and come running.

"You guys are _so funny!_" She was practically hyperventilating, pointing at the mercenaries. "I can't believe you just…just…" It was as if she couldn't bring herself to say the word _fart_. That wasn't the kind of thing people said up on Elysium. Instead, she just kept giggling and snorting as Crowe and Drake, soaking wet and red-faced, climbed out of the tub.

"Fokken hilarious." Kruger did not laugh, did not even smile. His moment of even temper had passed. "You two get dressed and stand guard just in case."

His men pulled on their clothes in silence, still shooting dirty looks at each other.

Kruger tugged off the stealth cloak and his own sweat-stained, filthy fatigues. He had to admit, the cool breeze did feel good on his weathered skin, even if being without any weapons always made him feel strangely vulnerable. The fact that he could still kill a man a dozen ways with his bare hands offered a measure of comfort.

Beside him, Lorelei had abruptly stopped laughing. She stared at him with a mixture of wide-eyed horror and strange fascination. "The fok you starin' at?" he snapped.

"You're…not wearing shorts. Or anything. I don't think that's _appropriate_," she huffed, using one of her aunt's favorite words.

He stared her down, folding his arms across his chest. "I never do, girl, and that wasn't part of our deal anyway. What's the matter, never seen a grown-up naked? Bet you'll want to when you get a bit older." Kruger leered at her. "What about when you get married, eh? Bit of a sneak preview for later." Crowe and Drake snickered at his joke.

"I'm never getting married. It's so gross." She turned up her nose and averted her eyes.

_Ha. You'll change your mind, _meisie, _and if I don't get killed, I might still be available when you do. I did always want a pretty blonde wife._

"Okay. Don't look then, if you're so fokken offended." He strode past her and climbed into the hot tub; the water had turned grey, chilly, and opaque. There was no point complaining. Water was water. He'd seen a lot worse. Besides, he still needed her hacking skills, much as he hated to admit it. This was just part of the deal. He was still worn down from his ordeal at Kgosi's hands, sore, tired. Five minutes in a bathtub would do more good than harm. Kruger sighed deeply.

_This actually feels all right, considering it's mixed up with the _kak _that came off those two. _

"Anything on the _Raven_?" Drake asked Lorelei hopefully. She'd picked up her comm pad again and begun to tap away.

"Um, I think so." Lorelei didn't look up, and her brows were knitted together in concentration. "It's outside the walls, and when I got out of it, it was flashing red. I think it was the engines. Is that bad?"

Kruger had been scanning the contents of the room from the moment they entered. One of his favorite upgrades had always been his near photographic memory. He knew he'd seen components for a first-gen Raven-class ship scattered around. _It's not gonna be fancy or pretty, but it'll get us where we need to go. _He spoke up from his repose in the tub. "Not necessarily…if you have the right parts, the right tools, and…" he smiled wickedly at Crowe and Drake, "the right labor, eh?"

The members of Oryx Squadron shared a grin. They had their plan.

_To Be Continued_


	8. Stomp On His Head

Chapter 8

"Boss? You coming?"

Kruger's eyes snapped open. He was still sitting in the tub, and the water was now ice cold. His limbs were nearly numb and his skin had begun to prune. _Jesus, did I actually fall asleep in this filthy _kak? _Whatever was in that bottle sure did a nasty fokken number on me. _

Crowe and Drake were staring at him as if they were thinking the same thing. His catnap had lasted just a few minutes, but those were minutes they couldn't afford to lose. The girl, sitting with her back to the Land Rover's rear wheel, remained indignant over both his nakedness and the suggestion that one day she'd be married. She just kept her little face turned upward, as haughty as her aunt, while tapping away at the comm and not making eye contact with anyone. At least she wasn't talking for a change.

"You find any weapons around here? Engine parts?" Kruger said, pulling himself out of the clammy water.

Crowe nodded. "Mostly older first or second-gen stuff, but I think I can get it to work, boss. Got all the tools we need on board. Won't take me long. Little _meisie _here did a diagnostic for us. Hacked right into the server, easy as you please."

"Yep. I even found some of our weapons stashed in one of their floorspace hidey-holes. Not the really good stuff, mind, but most of it. More than enough to teach these bastards a lesson, plus there's always our own stash on board the _Raven_. They couldn't have opened that cache without some serious firepower, so we'll be set." Drake showed off the two Chemrail rifles, an Eightstage stunner, and assortment of Asgari knives he'd laid out on a workbench. No body armor, no exo-suit. No katana.

Kruger hadn't expected to find the high-end stuff; it was the kind of thing which could be sold for big-time credits on the black market, DNA-unlocked or not. Slum rats loved to make cheap knockoffs of Elysian weapons. Having their own guns back was an unexpected bonus, and he planned to kill personally whichever of the bastards had taken his favorite sword.

He was secretly impressed, though, by the girl's contribution to all of this. Getting into a tactical network and figuring out what was wrong, all wirelessly, was not easy, especially with an ancient comm like the one she held. The little _nagmerrie_ had a gift, for sure. Kruger kept his face neutral. If he showed the slightest trace of approval, she'd start chattering his ears off again.

As he moved past her to grab his clothes, Lorelei spoke without looking up. "Now don't you feel better after that? Cleaner?"

"No." Kruger made sure to stand right in front of her and pull on every article of clothing slowly, teasingly. _If she's going to try and piss me off, then two can play that game. Since I can't give her a good _snotklap, _then this is the next best thing. _"I feel like a complete _doos. _Why d'you bother with all the fokken baths? Wasting good water like that?"

Lorelei sighed and put down the little comm. "Because," she said patiently, as if he were the child and she the adult, "on Elysium we have plenty of water, and we don't want to go around smelling like animals, and besides, it's good to keep germs away." Now that he had his shirt and pants on again, she could look him in the eye. "You still kind of stink, by the way," she added.

"Does it look like we're on fokken Elysium to you?"

She was about to respond, but then fell silent, lower lip trembling, cheeks flushed. Kruger noticed something then, or several somethings. Even if the scanners in his cheek implants hadn't picked the physical signs up, it was painfully obvious. For the first time, he was seeing real fear in her wide blue eyes. It wasn't that she was even slightly afraid of him or his men, much as he desperately wished she were. She was far away from home, on Earth, and now she knew she might never get back. That cruel reality was starting to sink in. She'd been raised in a place where the worst thing that could happen was a missed tee time or a shortage of caviar. No war, no blood or death, no kids torn to bloody shreds before her eyes. _Fok, she's never been away from the _Grootwiel_, then she comes down here looking for some 'adventure'? She's gotta be made of something strong if she hasn't cracked by now. _

Kruger had a hard time remembering the last time he'd felt fear. Or much of anything, other than the elated adrenaline surge he always got after a good lay or a good kill. He almost wanted to say something; offer some measure of comfort to the girl, who looked ready to burst into tears. _What the fok _would_ I say? Anything I said would probably just make her even more upset. Then she'd tell her precious auntie how much the bad man fokken ' traumatized' her, and I won't see a single credit. _He just swallowed his temper and held his tongue.

And there was something else which had been bothering him. The girl had gotten that ugly shrapnel gash after blowing up the cell door, hadn't she? She shouldn't be up and walking, much less babbling away or saying how bad he smelled. Those wounds usually bled like hell. Something was wrong. Kruger finished lacing up his boots and called over to Drake. "Change the dressing on her, _boet. _Make it quick."

His gunner obliged, murmuring soft words of assurance to Lorelei as he crouched by her side and took off the improvised bandage for a fresh one. Kruger only caught a brief glimpse of what was underneath, and when he did, his breath caught in his throat.

There was only a darker pink weal against the creamy white of the girl's calf, almost like an insect sting. No scar, no blood, hardly a marker at all. It was as if the injury had just been a bad dream. "Seems like…" Drake hesitated, sounding as surprised as Kruger felt, "seems like she's okay, boss. Musta been one of those where it looks a lot worse than it really is, eh? Like that time you took that head shot outside Mogadishu?" Even Crowe was staring open-mouthed, Chemrail all but forgotten in his arms.

"Yeah. Really, I feel fine now. Can I have some sweets like you promised?" Lorelei said eagerly. "I'm kind of hungry again." It was like she'd also forgotten she was ever hurt.

But Kruger had seen that wound with his own eyes, smelled the scent of blood. He knew well what the Walkyr grenades did to anyone unlucky enough to wander inside their blast radius. The bastards were lucky if they walked off just missing a limb. The girl should have been unconscious from blood loss, in shock, or dead. Instead, she was not only awake, but fully healthy, and annoying the _kak _out of him.

He decided not to dwell on it. After all, he could have still been seeing things; he still had no idea what had been in that poisoned drink, and what it was doing to him and his men. And he'd been knocked senseless by their Tempest weapon. In the end, what did it matter? If the girl was alive, unscarred, and only slightly traumatized, there was still a chance he'd get a hefty reward. That was worth putting up with a few more hours of chatter…and it meant triage was one less thing they'd have to deal with.

"Here," he said, tossing the girl the last of the vita-water. "Drink up, and get your stuff. We've got to get the _Raven _flying again if we're going back up, so let's move."

"Are you sure you don't want it?" Lorelei offered, holding out the half-empty bottle toward him.

Kruger glowered. It had no effect on the girl other than making her smirk, but it couldn't hurt to try again. "I've had enough of that _kak_." Turning to his men, he said, "Let's get the fok out of this place, boys. Time's a-wasting."

~~s~~

In the compound courtyard the night air was smoky, thick with the combined tangy odors of a war zone and the usual smog. To Kruger, it tasted like ambrosia.

"I'll be glad to put this fokken place behind me," he muttered to himself. He'd donned the stealth cloak again and was now covering the rear, pistol in hand. Enclosed spaces had never appealed to him. Over a century of working largely within compounds like this one, trenches, bunkers, and the occasional maximum-security facility, and it had done nothing to alleviate his innate dislike of anything indoors. He'd been born under the vast blue sky of Earth…and, if it were up to him, that was where he would die. That love of freedom was in his blood as surely as his insane drive to kill. How the people up on the _Grootwiel_ lived in their crazy manmade ant colony, under an artificial sky, Kruger would never know. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd stayed in the house they'd built for him up there. It would never be home.

Drake was still carrying the girl on his back, and a Chemrail in his arms, as they went. Either she was getting tired, or progressively more scared, or maybe both. She hadn't said a word since they'd left the hangar bay. _I'm not fokken complaining about that. If I'm lucky she'll just fall asleep._

The courtyard, like the rest of the place, was a literal and figurative boneyard. No one living, just scores of dead. Kruger barely spared the bodies a glance. It was their own damn fault for choosing a losing side. When he caught up to the insurgents' friends, they would all suffer the same fate. He'd be sure to make it slow and painful, if that were an option.

"Boss, we're almost there," Crowe assured him from the point position. His burden was a huge rucksack full of weapons, parts for the ship, and tools, yet he hardly seemed weighed down beneath it.

There were all kinds of things for Kruger be worried about. They were desperately short on time. The _Raven_ might not be repairable. He still had to come up with a plan of attack based on what the insurgents were doing. The new shield around Elysium might still be up. He was tired, nauseous, famished, and needed a med-bay badly. None of them were what was really bothering him.

It was the girl, he knew. He had every reason but one to inflict severe pain on her, with all her talking and her weird obsession with manners and her fokken pink bows. It wasn't just about the credits. Not anymore. There was something else, something he couldn't quite place. It was like an itch that couldn't be scratched, and it was starting to make his blood boil.

_Maybe if she's as good as she seems to be with the tech stuff, she might be useful to us yet. Find some way through that new shield._ He let the thought console him as they approached their parked ship through the compound's yawning front gate.

From the outside, the _Raven _looked almost like it always did. Almost. Kruger, with his enhanced night and thermal vision, immediately knew something was wrong. The insurgents had taken out both the rear engines and one forward stabilizer. Probably with some grenades of their own. That wasn't good…but it could be a lot worse. With some luck, a patch job might just get them back up to Elysium.

"Boys, you get right to work, eh?" Kruger ordered, stifling a yawn. "I'll unlock and get on board, see what the readouts look like, maybe scrounge up some of that ready-made _kak_ for us to eat."

Lorelei had jumped down off Drake's back. She held the comm pad in her hand like a holy relic. "Can I come too? Please?"

Crowe and Drake glanced nervously at one another. "We'll be working under the ship, boss. Maybe you could, um, keep an eye on her?" suggested Drake.

There seemed to be no other option. They couldn't have her wandering off with no guard. Kruger just grunted and beckoned with a slight gesture of his head. _If she starts running off her fokken mouth again, I swear I'll stun her. Damn the consequences. _

He didn't have to hold his palm over the biolock to open the door; the insurgents had already blown it open. The cloak came off; there was no need for it at the moment. Lorelei silently followed him inside, and they both began to survey the damage. Debris from the explosions was everywhere. Kgosi's soldiers had also ransacked the storage compartments, leaving weapons, spare parts, and fatigues strewn all around. Kruger stooped to pick up one of the closest boxes. Freeze-dried protein bars, by the looks of them. He tore into one hungrily, devouring it in two bites. It wasn't meat, but it was calories he desperately needed. On a normal day, he needed twice what a normal person would eat simply to maintain his weight. Today he'd gotten only a fraction of that, and he felt the pangs of hunger.

"Here. Eat this." He wolfed down another, then held one out to Lorelei. To his knowledge, she hadn't eaten all day, having turned down the _braai_ he'd cooked up for breakfast. _What a waste_.

"Okay," she said, her voice trembling, comm clutched tightly in one hand. With the other, she deftly peeled and ate the bar. Looking to him for approval, she added through a bite, "It's kinda stale. But good."

Kruger saw that she was shivering violently. Her thin school blouse and skirt were designed for the artificial warm temperatures up on Elysium, not the chilly nights of Gauteng. She'd have never experienced Earth climate before. He picked up a tattered camo jacket and threw it at her feet. "For fok's sake, put that on. You catch cold, they'll have a panic attack up there." _And I won't get my reward._

He'd already turned his back on her and was on his way to look at the main control panel, when the girl spoke. Her voice was so soft, and so shaky, that Kruger almost didn't hear her. "Thank you."

_Ag, for fok's sake, that's what it is. She's actually starting to _like _me. Why, I have no fokken idea. I've done everything I know to scare the piss right out of her…stuff that scares grown men shitless…and none of it's working, for some reason. She'll just have to be like one of those newborn baby animals who's never seen a snake before. That never ends well for the little fuzzy thing, does it? _He smiled to himself in cruel amusement.

Instead of responding, Kruger just ignored her and sat in the pilot's seat. Red, red and more red LEDs greeted his eyes. Crowe and Drake would have their work cut out for them. He'd never been much of a mechanic. Which meant a long few hours of guard duty, cleaning up, watching the _nagmerrie_…

Kruger sensed the girl's eyes on him without needing to turn around. "Haven't you done enough fokken staring at me for one day?" he growled. He was secretly impressed that she'd been able to sneak up on him without the cloak. Hardly anyone could do that, even if he was hung over and sore.

"I'm so tired." She was; he could tell. Even under the too-big jacket, her body was still shaking. The fear. He could smell it. "I can't go to bed, though. There's nothing soft in here. And," Lorelei yawned broadly, "it still reeks. Just so you know."

"I can't do a fokken thing about that. Now," Kruger said, abruptly changing the subject, "get up here. Tell me what you see, _meisie_. Hurry up." If she really knew what she was talking about, perhaps she'd notice something he didn't, and give him a few more pieces for a plan of attack.

Lorelei climbed up next to the chair. As she did, her hand brushed his, and Kruger felt the strangest sensation course through his body. Something like one of the hidden force shields CCB used to surround high-security areas, only different. Warm, not brutally, electrically cold. Like one of the rejuv serums they sometimes injected into his veins.

_The fok was that?_

"I can read some of this stuff, and the stuff I got on my comm. But not all. I think they're on their way up to Elysium, and they're coming in the back door."

"Tell me something I don't already know," he snapped, though the part about the back door was news to him.

Lorelei squinted at the _Raven_'s monitors. Thankfully, she didn't touch him again. Maybe she'd felt the same sensation. "I have an idea how _we _can do the same thing. I think it'll work. But first…" Even tired and fearful as she was, the mischief shone in her eyes. "You have to do something for me."

_Fok the Delacourts. Fok them all to hell. If I get out of this, I never want to deal with another one of the blond _goffels_ again. All of them know too well how to manipulate me. _"What do you want, little _nagmerrie_?"

"I want a lullaby. You know, so I can sleep. I always get one at home. Then maybe, you can tuck me in?"

That seemed easy enough…but then again, Kruger realized most of the few songs he knew were flat-out obscene or loud and raucous. Or both. And he _wasn't_ about to tuck her in. He snorted. This girl had somehow found every one of his buttons to push, then invented a few more for good measure. His temper blazed.

"Please?" She tugged at his tunic insistently. "That's it. I promise."

A wicked thought danced across his mind. There _was_ one song he knew that fit the bill. "All right. Sit on that crate and shut up. You get your fokken lullaby, I get my data readout. But I'm not 'tucking you in.' I don't do that _kak_. Fair?"

"Fair," agreed Lorelei. Instead of taking a seat, she curled up in a ball at his feet, holding her comm pad the way she might have held a stuffed animal.

Kruger sang, his voice low and surprisingly melodic:

_**Siembamba, mamma se kindjie**____**  
**__**Siembamba, mamma se kindjie**____**  
**__**Draai sy nek om gooi hom in die sloot**____**  
**__**Trap op sy kop dan is hy dood**__**…**_

Lorelei's eyelids were drooping as she gazed up at him. "That's so pretty. What do the words mean?"

He fixated her back with a cold, predatory stare. "Ask your auntie when you get back home. She'll be sure and tell you. Now, when do I get my…"

The girl had fallen asleep. And somehow, oddly, Kruger didn't feel like waking her. At least not for a few minutes.

_To Be Continued_


	9. Grey Matter

Chapter 9

**Author's Notes: Before I continue the story, I'd like to thank both MauMauKa and leave your sanity at the door for their support and inspiration as I write this story. You guys are both lekker.**

**Also, I've changed the rating on this story from T to M. I figured, with all the okes' swearing and violence and nasty thoughts, I couldn't justify it any longer. Hope you'll understand.**

Kruger found that he'd dozed off again. Well, it _was _as close to real sleep as he ever got. A long time ago, through trial and error, he'd learned to get his forty winks with both eyes open. It had been standard operating procedure ever since. When you found yourself in his line of work, it was a useful skill indeed.

The girl, on the other hand, really was asleep. She hadn't needed a soft bed or pillows after all. Kruger, meanwhile, sat at the _Raven_'s helm, eyes flicking back and forth from her curled-up body to the control panel and readouts. _Fok, I could never sleep like that knowing what's out there. _In a way he envied her.

The Elysians would have said she was cute. Kruger didn't; he was just glad she had finally shut the fok up. This was the most quiet he'd had this whole day, and he was grateful. With Crowe and Drake working outside, and the _nagmerrie_ sound asleep, it gave him the luxury of time to think what the hell he and his squad were going to do next.

When she'd talked about going in the back way, it had given him a burst of inspiration. For an annoying _bakvissie_ she came up with some clever stuff. Shield tests or not, certain deliveries always needed to go through to Elysium. The nuclear waste removal scows for the main core reactor were one of these. They ran like clockwork, in and out twice a day, at the times the torus was at its lowest activity level. Those ships were always unmanned; no one, not even a desperate illegal, wanted to risk lethal poisoning for a lowly job that could be done entirely by droids.

_And if I time this just right,I think we're in luck. There's one of those going in around midnight. We should be able to slip in undetected. Just need to get the little brat to hack us some non-organic entry codes, and we're in fokken business._

Outside the ship, the scopes weren't picking up any signs of intruders, but there was plenty of activity in the area. Kruger looked over the #3 monitor. The ship's cam-droids were still out over the skies of New Jozi, their footage displayed live. This clip showed a group of hungry-looking, heavily armed young men, maybe displaced Nigerians, clamoring and arguing inaudibly in some other insurgent compound. They'd find out soon enough that there was no Lisala-4, that Kgosi's fortress was empty and up for the taking. That was the way of things on Earth. Once you killed one enemy, two more sprung up to take his place. That, however, was not Kruger's concern right now.

The girl. The fokken girl. She was what his old drill instructor might have called "the flaw in the plan." Despite his every instinct telling him to do otherwise, Kruger knew he couldn't hurt her. If she did somehow come to harm by his hand or anyone else's, and Delacourt found out, it would finally be the end of the line for him. The Defense Secretary could, and usually did, overlook his violent methods, his war crimes, even his tendency to rape…but she would never overlook her beloved niece's maiming or death. And the girl would be a target, as an obvious Elysian and civilian. They were flying back into the _Grootwiel_ blind. It might be just a skirmish or a full-on shooting gallery. No telling. Something had to be done about the girl, and he didn't know what.

_I could always lock her in the fokken toilet. But then, she'd just bitch about the smell._

Still sore, Kruger stood up from the pilot's seat. He needed to check and see how the ship's repairs were coming along anyway. He also needed a good stretch. On the floor, the girl had begun to snore. It sounded the way a puppy might, light and airy. He couldn't help but half-smile at that. His men, who slept a lot deeper than he ever did, sounded like a couple of electro-saws whenever they conked out.

As he passed her, he noticed something else. The grenade wound on her leg was now completely gone. As if it had never existed at all. Kruger found himself wanting to reach down and touch it, to see if he was dreaming…then he remembered the strange electric sensation he'd gotten from her. _Better not. Besides, she'll get the wrong idea about me if she wakes up and my hand on her leg. _Another wry smile.

A deep _booooom_ somewhere outsidemade the _Raven_ shudder slightly. Not real close, but close enough. Maybe a mortar or an IED. Kruger thought little of it. The shields were down, but he could activate the other defenses if needed. The girl, unused to the noise, awakened suddenly, sat bolt upright and shrieked. She grabbed the first thing she spotted, which happened to be Kruger's left leg.

"What was that?" screamed Lorelei. "Did they get us?"

"No. Now get off."

That was easier said than done. She clung desperately to him, like a barnacle, and her whole body trembled. "I want to go home. I think I've had enough adventures for one day."

_So do I, girl. You have no idea._

Drake came running into the blasted-open side door with Crowe beside him. "Sure you heard that one, boss. These bastards aren't gonna stay away for long. Being out in the open like this, well, it's an open invitation. We're sitting ducks right now, and we're running out of time." His face and clothes were streaked with dust, sweat and engine fluid; the bath was in the rear view mirror now. "Getting close, just need a couple more tweaks."

"How long?" Kruger snapped, irritated at both the delay and the tiny girl clutching at him.

"Fifteen minutes maybe. We're not gonna win any beauty contests but we'll have her flying again," said Crowe. He was likewise filthy. "Enough to get us back up, but then she'll need to go in for a full overhaul. They really fokked her up."

Kruger breathed a silent sigh of relief. Losing his gunship wouldn't be the end of the world…he'd gone through enough of them over the years...but he'd grown particularly attached to this one. And speaking of attached, the girl still was glued to his leg. For such a little one she had an insanely strong grip. "Y'mind letting go? I'm trying to work here," he growled at her.

"Hugs always make me feel better. You should try one; maybe then you wouldn't be so grumpy."

Behind them, Drake sniggered, then covered his mouth with one hand. "She's not a fokken grenade. She ain't gonna go off or anything, or piss on you, boss. Just relax and she will too," he explained in between snorts of laughter.

Kruger couldn't think of a time in his life when he'd been _less_ relaxed. That wasn't going to work. "Why don't you take her with you if you're such an expert, _boet_? Or give her to Crowe?"

"'Cos, boss. We gotta finish up these engines, and Crowe? He'd just drop her on her head or something ," Drake shrugged, and Crowe didn't argue. "It's dirty work down there with all them big parts. She might get hurt. Besides, I think she kinda likes you. Really, give us just a few. Ten minutes, max. You'll do fine." He turned to go, and Crowe did the same.

That left the two of them alone again. Lorelei, thankfully, loosened her hold. She flopped down on one of the storage crates, looking warm at last in her oversize jacket. "He's right," she said softly, looking out the door after the two departing mercenaries. "I do like you. And I won't go off, either."

"Why?" Kruger threw up his hands, exasperated. The girl was incorrigible. "I'm singularly unlikable, _meisie_. I don't have friends, just targets." The words poured venomously out of him. Trying to be nice with her clearly didn't work, and neither did veiled threats. He was dropping the gloves now. "And I don't like you much either, for the record. I didn't ask you to stow away, fok up my mission, not to mention my hair, and cheat me out of my pay. What've you got to say to that, eh? Go right ahead. Tell me."

She was quiet. Those big blue eyes blinked behind long lashes. Was that sadness reflected there? Hurt? Kruger didn't think so. He also didn't notice any of the telltale signs of fear: increased heart rate, flushing, faster breathing. Just that baffling, enigmatic expression. One he, and his bio-implants, was unable to read. Why was this one so hard to figure out? When Lorelei finally spoke up again, her words surprised him.

"I guess you're just like _Tante _Jessica, then. She doesn't like me much either." Lorelei stared at him without pretense or guile. "Actually, she thinks I'm sort of a pest."

"You've got to be fokken kidding me." Kruger had always thought the Delacourts were loving, if distant, with their family members. _Jesus, even an ice-bitch like that loves her own kid. Right?_

"No, I'm not," said Lorelei, shaking her head. Straightening herself on her makeshift seat, she launched into an uncanny, if high-pitched, imitation of the Defense Secretary's imperious, Quebecois-accented voice. "'Young ladies do not giggle in public. They maintain decorum and good manners at all times. And they _certainly_ don't make rude noises."

Kruger laughed. It was brief, but it was also a good, honest, deep laugh from his gut, and he couldn't remember the last time that had happened. "Fok me. That's not bad," he admitted.

"I made you laugh! I knew it!" Lorelei clapped her hands together, squealing with delight.

As quickly as it had appeared, the smile was gone. Kruger didn't want her to get the wrong ideas. Of course, she'd already developed more than a few of those, and it was probably too late to hope. Nevertheless he just scowled and pointed to her comm. "No, you didn't, and, by the way, now that you're up again, you owe me. How about you show me how fokken smart you are and give me some intel I can use?"

The girl jumped off her seat and threw herself at him. She really was like the damn cat who only wanted to be with people who hated it. Cuddling up next to Kruger and ignoring his stiffened, bristling posture, she flicked one finger across the screen. "I can't read all of this," she admitted, "but it seems like the bad guys are taking about twenty people up there. Their code is really strange, you know?"

Kruger stared down his nose at her. She really was like a little springbok calf, all big eyes and long limbs, who'd never looked into the eyes of a hungry leopard. No sense of danger at all. She wouldn't have had to develop one growing up where she did. _Gonna get her killed. _"Look, d'you mind not doing that?" he growled.

"Doing what?" Lorelei just snuggled deeper, and as she did, looked up in wonder at his face. "By the way, you have lots of nose hair. Ew. Did you know that?"

"No, and I don't fokken care." Kruger just wanted to get back to the plan. Every second lost now was precious. "You picking up their weapons systems? Shuttle code? Cyber-attacks, anything like that?"

"And your hair. It's grey." Lorelei ignored his questions entirely, brushing at the tips of his beard with one hand. Her expression was that of an awestruck worshipper in the shadow of a sacred idol. "That is so weird." She giggled.

It took him a moment to realize that it would be a strange color to her. None of the Elysians, despite their advanced age, had grey hair. Not even Delacourt. He was different. Grey hair was just another part of him. He would never be an Elysian despite the place they'd built for him there and the piles of credits they shoved at him to keep their paradise pristine. Kruger had lost track of his real age at some point but knew he was rapidly approaching the double century mark. Jislaaik, _I must be getting soft if I'm actually worrying about all that _kak. "You're not helping with the grey, _meisie_. Get back to the readouts." He grabbed her little hand in his to stop her playing with his hair, and as he did, the sensation hit him like the current from an electrified compound fence.

Only it was much, _much_ stronger this time.

It wasn't, Kruger realized with a shock, an unpleasant thing. Not like what he now realized was the portable Tempest EMP that the insurgents had used to cripple him earlier. It was…_warm? Glowing? _He had no word to do it proper justice, only to say that it coursed smoothly, like a healing balm, through his every blood vessel and made him forget his injuries, thirst and hunger. It was life-giving. It made him want to forget everything.

_So help me, it's like the feeling I get after I get laid. But she's a damn kid…and that's not quite right, is it? Can't think of her that way. I do a lot of _kak _but that's not on the list._

"Are you okay?" In the few seconds that had passed, Lorelei's face had morphed from awe to alarm.

Kruger realized he'd let go of her hand in that brief moment, and the connection was gone. The golden haze winked out of existence, but he was still feeling it pumping through his veins. To the girl, with his fully expanded black pupils, flaring nostrils, and flushed skin, he must have looked absolutely terrifying.

"Never better," he snapped, and, using his elbow to avoid direct contact, he pushed her off his lap awkwardly. That didn't seem to activate the strange feeling; it was the skin-to-skin contact that seemed to cause it. "Get up to that pilot box and sync it with your comm pad. No more fokking around." As an afterthought, he added, "And don't touch me again. Ever. I mean it."

"All right, fine. No need to be so rude," Lorelei said, standing up and straightening her too-big jacket like it was a fancy gown. "You really need to work on your communication skills."

"I'm not paid for my good fokken communication skills, girl." Kruger grudgingly followed her over, keeping his distance now. An assault team was grinding itself out in his mind. Yes, the Oryx Squadron would be outnumbered and missing most of their favorite gadgets. He didn't even have his katana. But, they knew the torus inside and out, all its hidden passages and traps. The insurgents only had what they'd pulled from his mind. That was no substitute for real experience. And they could use the element of surprise, too, if they played it right.

When the synchronized data scrolled rapidly by, Lorelei read it, as much as she could, her lips moving wordlessly.

"Well? What're you seeing?" Kruger asked impatiently.

"The shield test is still jamming most of it," she explained, not looking at him, "but it's 2140 now, and they're going in around midnight, I think? We could try sending a message home to warn them, but I don't think it would work."

Kruger nodded grimly. He hated to admit it, but the girl was right. Kgosi and his team must have planned this assault for months. Their mole, whoever he was, would have known about the _Aegis_ test and figured out it was the perfect time for a sneak attack. Flying in undetected, or else disguised, like a Trojan horse? Kruger had to admire their audacity there. It was exactly the sort of thing he might have come up with. Twenty men, or even ten, coming in unannounced and under the radar, could be lethal.

"Why don't you have someone on your team to do that? You guys really don't know anything about this, do you?"

"Do what?" Kruger said absently. He was still exhausted, golden haze or not.

"Comms. Hacking. I thought everybody needed one of those."

Kruger thought about telling her about that stupid _laaitie _Van de Merwe_, _the late fourth member of Oryx Squadron, who'd gotten them into all that trouble in Mumbai, but before he could, Crowe and Drake stormed into the ship. They were both swearing loudly in Afrikaans and English and talking over the other. Both of them had fresh bruises and cuts on top of the ones the insurgents had inflicted, as if they'd been in a scuffle outside.

"Boss, you better tell this _boudkapper _to stay the fok outta my way when…"

"_Suig my piel, _Crowe, you're the one who…"

They went down on the floor in a tangle of limbs, punches, kicks and insults flying back and forth.

"Do something!" Lorelei shouted. "They're going to hurt each other!"

Kruger just shrugged and tried to hide his sly grin. "Not my fokken problem, _meisie. _The okes'll get it worked out in a minute. They always do."

But they didn't. They just kept going, like two starved dogs scrapping over a meaty bone.

Lorelei got up from her seat next to the control panel and, without asking permission and without a trace of fear, picked up the plastic bucket in the far corner. With all the icy dignity of her aunt, she strode calmly over to where Crowe and Drake were thrashing around, and tossed the contents of the bucket right into their faces.

"SHUT IT!" she bellowed in a voice Kruger wouldn't have thought possible coming from such a small set of lungs. "Stop fighting! You're on the same team, aren't you?"

The both of them stared at her, open-mouthed, locked in frozen combat. Drake's hand was still raised to strike Crowe, and Crowe looked as if he wanted to bite something.

"You two need to cooperate. Get some positive energy flowing. Come on. Stand up. Now!"

Drake looked over at Kruger, his lips forming the phrase, _Is she kidding, boss? _

Kruger gave a curt nod. _Just do it._

The pilot and the gunner, mortified, red-faced and soaked with pee, both stood up in front of Lorelei. She was glaring at both of them.

"We're all in this together. We need to _work_ together! Now, can't you guys say you're sorry? Shake hands? Maybe have a nice harmony hug?"

Kruger raised an eyebrow. '_Harmony hug?' No wonder those weak fokkers up on Elysium need me to protect them._ He didn't say a word, just watched, with dry amusement, as the girl chastised his men like some kind of miniature drill sergeant.

Tight-lipped, Crowe and Drake turned toward one another and, inhaling deeply, exchanged the briefest of handshakes.

"Now say you're sorry," prompted Lorelei.

"Okay, fine. Drakey, _boet, _I'm sorry I called you a fokken disfigured mountain goat who smells his own sister's _kont."_

"Crowe, mate? You're all right when you're not being an ugly, cowardly chickenshit little _tietkop_ with all the smarts of a carrot."

"Now don't you both feel better?"

"No," the men chorused.

"Better or not, you cut this _kak _out and finish the repairs, boys. We're taking off soon," said Kruger.

"Going back up to the _Grootwiel_, boss?" Drake asked, rubbing at his head.

_Yes, we are. And this little _meisie _has more spunk than I thought. Maybe…_Kruger smiled at the sudden thought…_maybe there's a way still I can salvage this whole situation, and still get paid._


	10. Dirty Deeds, Not Dirt Cheap

Chapter 10

**Author's Notes: Thanks again to my favorite **_**boeties**_** for following and commenting on this one. It means a lot to me…now, on with the show!**

Outside the _Raven_, things had gone eerily quiet, as if every warlord, gangster and thug in the city was suddenly holding his breath, waiting for the others to make the next move. No gunfire, no distant _crump_ of anti-aircraft or mortars. Just silence.

On the inside, it was a hive of busy activity. The girl was actually making herself useful for once, carrying tools for Crowe and Drake as they worked to cobble together the hatches, doors and shields, fetching ready rations for them to eat, and lending a few words of encouragement along the way. The two mercenaries, who'd thankfully taken a moment to wipe their soaked heads, were joking away, swearing at one another playfully after their fight a few minutes before. It had been just another one of their many little disagreements. They liked to resolve disagreements with their fists, not with their words. Kruger sat in the pilot's seat, brooding and going over the readouts on Lorelei's comm pad versus the _Raven_'s screens again and again. Whenever one of the others called over to him for his opinion on something, he just grunted. _Fok. How am I supposed to think with all that noise?_

He knew the illusion of harmony wouldn't last. They had to get the hell out of there, and fast. Time was really running out now. The fifteen minutes Drake had promised had dragged into a half hour…now a full one. 2245 hours, Elysium time. Barely enough time to fly up to the torus, land in some out of the way spot, devise a strategy based on the situation at hand, and carry out a successful assault. Not to mention an assault without armor, shields, or any of the usual toys. This one would be a hard nut to crack.

"…and then, she tells me, 'keep my fokken _broekies,' _you earned 'em!" Crowe finished the punchline to one of his stupid jokes, slapping his own knees, and Drake chuckled. The girl laughed too, though probably more at the gunner's high-pitched snort than the actual joke.

How anybody could be laughing at a time like this, Kruger didn't know. He liked a good dirty joke as well as anyone, but this wasn't the time or place for it. "Let's hear a little less fokken laughing and a little more working over there, eh?" he said irritably.

"You always used to love that one, boss." Crowe peered out from under his welding goggles. He seemed crestfallen.

"So?"

"So," said Drake, gesturing at Kruger with an electronic torch, "just because we're on a mission doesn't mean we can't have a little bit of a _jol_. Jesus, ain't we been through enough today to deserve a laugh?" His exposed flesh, mottled purple and black with bruises and cuts, spoke the truth of his words.

If Kruger hadn't absolutely needed the little Dragonfly comm pad, he would have smashed it to bits right then and there. He picked up the first thing at hand-the now empty plastic bucket- and smacked it hard against the side of the ship's wall, where it shattered. Crowe, Drake and the girl all spun around, startled from their moment of jollity.

"You don't fokken get it, do you?" he snarled, his voice becoming more furious with every syllable. "This op is compromised. Those fokkers have a head start and everything they need to bring that _bliksem_ torus down, if that's what they want. They could be up there doing it right now while we sit around like a bunch of idiots. That place is our fokken _lifeblood_. We're sure as fok not going to get paid, or ever work again, if that happens. You think that's funny? Eh?" The veins in his forehead and neck were bulging wildly as he spoke, and his hair seemed to stand on end. "Go ahead and fokken laugh, then. I'm just going to keep it real." He grabbed his stealth cloak and pistol and stormed outside, seething, past his men and the girl.

"Where's he going?" Crowe wondered after the terrible moment of silence which followed.

"The boss just needs a sec, _boet_. You know how he gets. Leave him be."

Lorelei had already scampered off after Kruger. Her face was grave, as if she'd been personally wounded by his outburst and wanted an apology. Ignoring Crowe and Drake's muttered protests, she squeezed her way through the half-open rear hatch and out into the night.

It was chilly, colder than she'd ever been before. The jacket she wore only took the sharp edge off the wind, nothing more. She shivered. A moment later, teeth clacking, she found what she was looking for: the glowing tip of a cigarette, and the disembodied edges of Kruger's angular face and beard, floating in the air under the cowl of the cloak.

"If you so much as fokken look at me right now, I swear…" He didn't turn around to look at her, hardly moved a muscle, just puffed away. The smoke was a small comfort, one which helped him forget how famished and thirsty he was. His voice was as low and dangerous as an asp's hiss, his body tensed and rigid.

"I'm not looking at you." She swallowed hard, collected herself. Bit her tongue to keep from saying something that might set him off, like _smoking is bad for you._ _Remember, never show fear_. "What's going to happen to me if my home's gone? If the bad guys blow it up, or something?" It had been on Lorelei's mind ever since she'd realized the real trouble they were in. She had to know, and the words came out before she had a chance to edit them.

A dry, mirthless laugh. "Then they blow it up, and guess what? You won't have a home anymore. No more pretty house with a perfect lawn. And you know what else? I won't fokken care, _meisie_. You can do whatever you want, go wherever you like, because I'll be long gone by then. I'll still have plenty of stupid marks who want, and need, my services. You?" He scoffed from beneath the cloak. "You won't stand a chance here in this world."

"Yes I will. I'm smart, and I'm brave. I could do tech stuff for a living, you know?"

Kruger arched an eyebrow, looked at her from the corner of one eye. There was a contingency plan, of course. If the worst happened, and Elysium went down the shitter, he'd still find a way to profit. He always did. In fact, the backup plan had been slowly marinating in his mind all day long. _I may not have a thing for them that young, but there are plenty of pervy bastards who do. Stun her, drop her off at one of the higher-end places in Bangkok or Shanghai. One genuine little blonde Elysian girl, citizen marker intact, never touched….how you like them apples, eh? I'd make more on her in a single day than I usually would in a year…and I'd never have to see the annoying little _meisie _again. Two birds with one fokken stone._

"You're looking at me weird again. Stop it," said Lorelei, her voice wavering. She looked less like her aunt and more like what she really was: a terrified, lost, sleep-deprived kid.

"And how is that?" Kruger asked her, weirdly amused by her terror. It went against his twisted personal honor code to kill one so young. Still, the thought was tantalizing. The taste of her fear, and the surge of her rapidly pumping blood, would be exquisite to his senses.

In the smoggy, chilly night air, Lorelei blinked once. Yes, she was clearly afraid. Tears, and the wind, stung her eyes. She was also looking back at him with a curiously studied expression, as if she was able to see right through him as he could her. Few people had ever done that to him. Fewer still were sane, and only one was alive.

"Just…weird. It's creeping me out. And home? I don't think I want to go back home," she finally said, quietly but firmly. "I don't know where I want to go, but it's not there."

It was the very last thing Kruger expected her to say. The girl had no idea how lucky she was. She'd been born into a world where she'd never have to be hungry, sick, or crippled. Like she'd won the lottery of life without having to buy a ticket. It was a privilege millions died for, killed for, screwed for, spent their whole lives working to pay for. And she was willing to throw it all away? "You're not only annoying, you're fokken crazy," he said sardonically, pulling at the last of his cigarette and tossing the butt to the ground. "They every tell you that?"

"Yeah. Well, not like that, but they did."

_Christ, if I sold her to one of those places, she'd break into a thousand tiny pieces. Such a strange one. Like her fokken auntie. She wouldn't last a week…but I'd still get paid, wouldn't I? That's what counts._

"Look up there. You see that, _meisie_?" Kruger said to the girl, pointing upward to the smoky night sky. The torus was nearly directly overhead. It was usually the only heavenly object, other than the moon, which could be seen from the heavily polluted Earth anymore. And it was spectacular as ever: a glowing, sparkling five-pointed star surrounded by its outer ring. The very fact that it was up, and the lights were still on, was encouraging. It meant the insurgents hadn't crippled the systems…yet.

Lorelei was captivated. It was one thing to look out of her bedroom window every night and see the sapphire beauty of Earth; it was quite another to see her own home from so many miles away. "It's amazing! I think I can see my house from here!" she breathed. "That is so cool!"

She couldn't, of course, but Kruger didn't correct her. "What you see there is where you belong. I don't belong there, and my _boeties_ don't fokken belong there. You do. If I have to knock you out again, I don't care what the fok it takes. Once we get there, if we get there, you're staying." He knew full well Delacourt would outbid any sorry madam or pimp in East Asia for the girl, but it wouldn't hurt to test the market. _Plus, I doubt any cathouse, no matter how posh, can give me the kind of weapons I want as a reward. Hell, I might even be able to get a new gunship in this deal if I play my hand right._

"Why can't I come with you?"

It was a good thing Kruger had finished his last cigarette, otherwise he might have choked on it. The girl's sense of humor, it seemed, was just as sick and twisted as his own. "You actually need me to answer that question for you?"

The girl stared at him, hands on hips. At least she wasn't touching him. "You could use me. I can do all kinds of stuff. I promise I wouldn't get in the way…"

Kruger snorted. _I'm not the only one who'd be able to use you. I bet you can do 'all kinds of stuff.'_ "Too fokken late for that."

"…and I really know my tech stuff inside and out…"

"You want to know what happened to the last _poes_ comm guy who pissed me off? Did the boys tell you yet? I broke his fokken neck."

"Seriously, though. I could help you."

He wasn't about to give her points for originality or style or artistry, but fok, the girl was persistent. Sometimes that was a useful quality. Other times, like now, it was merely an annoyance, like a mosquito in a dark room when you were trying to sleep. "If I tell you why, you have to shut up from now till the time you get home. Otherwise, all bets are off. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Then get the fok down!"

Kruger, with his keen vision, had spotted the little drone a split second before; it was tiny enough to be mistaken as a moth by most people. It even looked like a mechanical insect. He, as he always reminded himself, was not most people. With a single, massive shot from the tiny silver Asgari pistol, Kruger reduced the mech to a pile of smoking metallic waste.

_Well, that's one way to kill the little bastard. This thing would take down an elephant if I asked it to. But it means someone, somewhere, has seen us. That droid had a cam in it. Fok…now we're really out of time._

Lorelei had covered her ears but cried in shock anyway. "Did it get me?" she whimpered.

The girl was annoying, a liability, and was far too concerned with hygiene…but Kruger couldn't deny anymore that she had real grit. She was shaken, but otherwise unharmed save for a small scorch to her left cheek. He'd seen others shit themselves or go irrevocably mad when the pistol went off at that point-blank range. "Fok, no. I got it. Now get up; we're getting out of here."

Drake had finally come out of the ship to catch up to them; Kruger could only hope he and Crowe had been finishing the repairs in the meantime. "Boss, we've got incoming. ETA five minutes or so. We don't fly out before that…"

He didn't need to be told what that meant. Grabbing the fallen Lorelei by the back of her jacket as not to make contact with her skin, Kruger shouted at his point man. "Those heat shields gonna hold, _boet_?"

"Guess we'll find out, sir. We did our best." Drake covered the rear with his railgun as they ran back toward the parked _Raven._

Crowe was already starting the engines when they arrived back aboard. The familiar thrum and roar was a comforting sound; the men seemed to have managed that part just fine. But the scopes were going crazy; it was as if the entire surrounding area had woken up and decided to attack. Drones, plenty of angry locals, and what appeared to be a tank dotted the screens. "We still got the girls out there, boss," he said over the clamor. "Gonna lose 'em, I think."

"Fok those damn things. Get this ship up!" Kruger shouted, tossing the girl at Drake. "And get her belted in!"

For once Lorelei said nothing. Either she was living up to her promise to Kruger or she was in delayed shock after the cannon-loud shot of the pistol. She stayed docile, limp and still as Drake lifted her into one of the passenger seats.

"You're gonna be just fine, girl. Just stay out of the boss' way, eh? We'll get you out of here." He spoke low and soft to her, stroking the burn mark.

"I…I think I will," she gasped. It was shock. He'd seen it a thousand times before, but it was always heartbreaking to see it in someone so young. Drake remembered his little sister's face when the soldiers overran their shantytown years before. He tried not to think of it now.

There was no time to think, only time to act. Crowe tried to cycle through the takeoff as quickly as he could, but the ship, still damaged, was balky and slow. Drake sealed the rear and side hatches…they seemed to be holding…and Kruger hurriedly stashed away all the items that had been scattered earlier. It would be a dark irony to have survived an EMP and torture, only to be concussed by a flying storage crate to the head while exiting Earth's rough atmosphere.

"I need some more time," Crowe called out from the pilot box. "Think you okes could help me out? I'm doing everything I can here!"

Drake didn't need to be asked twice; he flicked the switch to activate the shield, which thankfully worked, if not at full power. Kruger wished he had his usual arsenal of handheld explosives. They'd all been taken from him. Instead, he sent a barrage of the ship's onboard artillery into the closest group. A moment ago, they had appeared as dark-orange, moving human shapes on screen. Now they were motionless and white.

"That's it, come and get some," Kruger hissed under his breath, with only a fraction of his usual dark glee.

"We're at 95 percent. Give me just a few more, boss…"

The two of them poured every bit of firepower they still had into the oncoming attackers. It would hold them off, but nothing more. The people of Earth were like cockroaches. You could poison them, shoot them, even nuke the bastards…but in the end, they survived through sheer numbers alone. _No wonder the fokkers all want to get up to Elysium, _Kruger thought as he watched an orange shape disintegrate on the monitor. _Make it into their own personal cockroach colony, eh? _

"Got it!" Crowe shouted triumphantly. "Here we go, hang on!" The ship's engines roared and the _Raven _lurched vertically skyward not a moment too soon. Below them, Kgosi's old compound was in flames again. Even without any Elysians or their associates to fight, Kruger knew, the people of Earth would gladly kill each other. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. They were up.

None of the Oryx Squadron spoke as the _Raven_ flew higher, its angle of ascent becoming steeper by the minute. The mainframe shuddered slightly, and the readouts indicated lingering damage, but Crowe and Drake had done their jobs well.

"What now, boss? You have a plan?" It was Drake who spoke, his words coming out in a rush, as if he'd been holding his breath since takeoff.

Kruger knew what they'd do once they got there. If they got there. And he was going to enjoy it. He simply nodded at his gunner.

"What about the girl?"

_Fok…every time I have a moment to enjoy, she comes up. _"What about her? You strap her in like I told you?" he snapped.

"I don't think she looks so well," Drake said. "You think it's the shock still?"

There was no way for Kruger to be sure, but Drake had a point. Lorelei's face was chalk-white, her eyelids a delicate purple shade. She wasn't just sleeping; she'd passed out completely. Kruger scowled.

_She'll wake up…and when she does, she's going to mean a lot of credits for me. If she doesn't? I'll just have to kill her after all. No huge loss…and I'd enjoy that almost as much._

The _Raven _continued its ascent, every second bringing it closer to Elysium.

_To Be Continued_


	11. The Flaw in the Plan

Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Thanks for everyone's ongoing support, and especially my two-woman Wrecking Kru, leave your sanity at the door and MauMauKa. I'm sorry this is sort of a "travel" chapter, but it had to be done. Enjoy, boeties! I have used a lot of information from the wonderful book "Living in Space" by Giovanni Caprara; it's a must-read for anyone wanting to know the real science behind Elysium.**

It was as if the ordeal at the compound had been just a nightmare. The automatic weapons fire, antiaircraft noise, and chaos of Jozi were left behind in seconds. The _Raven _streaked upward through the night sky, Crowe keeping the glowing lights of Elysium dead-center in their sights.

"We got out of there just in time, boss," Drake said, as if to reassure himself that they really had made it out. He'd taken the seat next to the unconscious girl, who whimpered under her breath to someone only she could see. Drake stroked her golden hair with a nervous hand. "Don't wanna have to go through that again, eh?"

Kruger ignored him. He stood silently to one side, brooding, holding onto a hanging strap with a death's grip. They'd been lucky in their escape. Their luck might not hold. All three of them were exhausted, hungry, and physically beaten down. Not the scenario he'd choose for an ideal assault. Definitely not one without intel, radio contact, or advance scouting. "You getting through yet?" he barked at Crowe. They were starting to climb up near the top of the stratosphere, the sky turning a still deeper shade of black outside. So far, the heat shields and the crudely welded doors were holding.

"Nothing. It's like the torus isn't even there," Crowe admitted. "They're either all asleep, boss, or the insurgents did something to it. Or maybe the defense shield is still causing the interference. Whatever way, all the signals are jammed. I tried every possible frequency short of sending fokken smoke signals."

"ETA to the _Grootwiel_?"

"Fifteen minutes. But we're going in the back way, so let's say twenty-five."

It was something Kruger had often thought, and once brought up to the Defense Secretary during one of their infrequent, clandestine meetings: Elysium, for all its power and glory, had very lackluster defenses. President Patel, and all his _moffie_ predecessors, had insisted on droid-only security forces for the torus, adamant that human soldiers like Kruger and his squadron were unreliable, erratic, and "compromised Elysium's integrity." Any illegal ships that got out of Earth's atmosphere and flew up toward Elysium-and there were many- had to be shot down not from the habitat itself, but from the planet below, because the damn NIMBYs who lived there didn't want missile silos blocking their view of the lake or the orchard.

Droids could be shut down or reprogrammed, in fact, quite easily so with the data the insurgents had gotten from him. A well-trained, experienced man couldn't. _How's that fokken integrity of yours now, eh? Now that you're about to take it up the arse from a bunch of flea-bitten slum rats because you didn't want proper fortifications?_

There was something else on Kruger's mind besides the compromised, weak defense systems. A small detail he knew he'd overlooked….the kind of detail which could doom a hastily-put-together plan like this. Even something as small as a paper clip, when traveling at high enough velocity, could cause catastrophic damage to objects in space. Was that it?

"Boss, I don't think she's doing so well," called Drake from the bank of seats, and then Kruger suddenly realized his oversight.

The re-entry codes. The ones the girl said she'd stolen from God knew where. That's what she'd said; that they were going in disguised as a droid-crewed waste scow. If they didn't have those codes, the insurgents would know they were coming, and they _would _shoot first and ask questions later. He had no idea how to download them off her comm pad, and doubted his men did either. And without the exo-suit, direct plugin wasn't a possibility either. _Fok…I can't get away from the little _nagmerrie _for more than five minutes. _

Kruger made his way over to them slowly; the ship was pulling out of its steep vertical climb and stabilizing again as they entered the edges of space. It was a feeling he'd gotten used to over the years but never truly enjoyed. Nor would he ever get used to the strange feeling of artificial gravity aboard the aircars and shuttles: at four-fifths that of Earth's gravity, it gave him a weird feeling of vertigo, which was now made worse by his chemically-induced nausea.

He was no real judge, but the girl did look unwell. Pale skin made even paler, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow, shuddering beneath her oversize jacket. "Dunno what's wrong with her. It's like she came down with a cold or something. Only I don't think it is," Drake said, worry in his voice. "Should I get a first aid kit out? Get her some pills?"

"No. Just wake her the fok up." Kruger looked down at the pitiful little figure of Lorelei with disdain. There were any number of things she could've come down with on Earth. It was not only a shithole, it was a shithole crawling with all kinds of diseases. And the girl had never set foot off the torus before. That was a disaster waiting to happen.

_So why, if she can overcome a grenade wound the size of my fokken hand without so much as a scratch, can't she get over this? Strange._

"C'mon, _meisie_. Time to wakey-wakey," Drake nudged her gently. Lorelei groaned and curled more tightly into a ball. She stirred but didn't awaken when he shook with more force. "Boss, a little help here?"

Kruger remembered what had happened the last time he'd touched the girl. That strange, golden haze that felt like afterglow, and yet was so much more. That couldn't happen again, though some part of him was darkly curious enough to wonder what would happen if it did. _Just not now. _"Fine," he grunted, and pushed at her midsection hard with one booted foot.

"Oh. Hey." Lorelei yawned and stretched in the confines of her seat. "Can you sing me that pretty 'Siemboppa' song again? I just wanna sleep," she said drowsily, drawling out the last word.

Drake shot Kruger a look of horrified disbelief. "Oh, seriously, boss. You didn't. Not that one?"

"She wouldn't shut up. It was either that or cut out her fokken larynx," Kruger said dryly. "Now, about those entry codes. You said…" Lorelei had already started to snore again. "For Chrissakes, Drakey, I'm not asking you much, but keep her the fok awake. Get her some more of that blue water _kak_. Anything."

From Lorelei's backpack, Drake took out the last bottle of the precious vita-water. Only a few sips remained, which he made her swallow while he held up her little head. "There's a good girl. Make you feel right as rain," he assured her, though he didn't really believe it. "You listen up to what _Oom _Kruger here says, all right? It's important."

"Mmm…okay." Lorelei was still sleepy-eyed, but the trickle of liquid had revived her for the moment. She sat up and blinked.

"Ten minutes and closing, boss. Still no contact," Crowe said over the roar of the engines. "You want me to go into a holding pattern? I'm not sure we have the fuel for more than one or two tries."

Time was truly running out now. They would appear on the outer perimeter radar as a manned ship any minute. "Keep your current trajectory until I say otherwise. We're going into sector 9-9, the main reactor. You know the way," Kruger ordered. Turning to Lorelei, he tried to twist his dark scowl into something even slightly more pleasant. _Not that it matters with this one; she's either stupid, which I doubt, or she's just not afraid of me, in which case she's just naive._ "Get us one of those codes. And be quick about it. You heard what he said," he told her, pulling the Dragonfly pad from his cargo pocket and handing it to her.

Lorelei fixed him with that eerie, soul-scrutinizing look of hers. Their faces were only inches apart. She seemed to be staring at something just above his head, and she wasn't looking at the comm. "It looks like you have bad dandruff. Or maybe lice," she announced solemnly after a moment, pointing to what she imagined to be the offending insects in Kruger's hair. "Do you have lice?"

"Not right now, I don't." His voice was low and dangerous behind his gritted teeth. "_The codes_."

"Why don't you just shave your head, like Mr. Crowe? Then you wouldn't even have to worry about it."

_If this girl wasn't worth millions of credits, I'd cut her throat for this. She just doesn't know when to shut up. _"Because then I'd look like a complete _tietkop _like him," he snapped. Ignoring Drake's snort of laughter, Kruger pointed a finger right back at her. "Last chance, _meisie_. Give me these codes and stop fokking around, or else I can't promise I'll be nice anymore."

"Okay. No need to be so pushy." The girl's hands flew over the device like those of a concert pianist. She really was an artist with this stuff…and what was more, she seemed to be interfacing directly with her pad: the very motions of her hands, and not keystrokes, directing the streams of data. Kruger had never seen anyone do that with a top of the line model, much less an old piece of junk like this. "Which one do you want? The one that starts with 'Mike Foxtrot' sounds good…"

"Anything. Hurry the fok up."

She kept at it, palm twisting and moving back and forth over the pad. Finally, after what seemed like forever, there was a soft _beep _with an automated, mechanical voice. _'Non-organic re-entry code accepted. Droid vessel entering Elysium airspace…'_

"So what does that mean?" Drake asked. He'd been holding his breath without realizing it.

"It means," Kruger said, suddenly wishing he hadn't killed his last three comms men, "that we're not gonna get blown out of the fokken sky, or bounce off the shields like a piece of space junk." It wasn't his area of expertise, but he knew at least that much.

Lorelei nodded wearily. "Yeah. At least I think so. I've only ever simmed this one, and most of the time…" She let out a long sigh. "I kinda crashed."

"You 'kinda crashed?'" Kruger turned away and threw up his hands in disgust. "You're fokken telling me this now?" More than ever, he wanted to clamp his hands around the girl's neck and squeeze every last breath from her. Only the promise of that fat reward, and the look of shock he could imagine on her aunt's normally icy face, kept him from doing so.

Drake put a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, boss. She got us the code. Now we gotta do our part, eh?"

The fact that his men had warmed to the girl infuriated him even more. Kruger snarled at him. "Don't fokken touch me, _boet_. Just shut up and get your weapons ready."

"Roger that." Drake quickly got out of the way and started retrieving the guns and armor they still had from the appropriate locker.

"Five minutes, boss." Crowe steered the ship ever closer toward the torus, which loomed large in the readout screen. "Still on a complete blackout for comms. Lights are still on, though, and no indication of bio or chem weapons. No radioactive signature, either. Our scanners took a beating down there, though, so what do you make of that?"

It could mean any number of things, Kruger knew. He grudgingly had to hand it to this group: they were patient. Too many of the scum who flew up to Elysium thought it was a good idea to crash their shuttles into someone's backyard…but then, the Homeland forces were on them in seconds, and maybe a handful of them got what they'd come for before being cuffed and deported. That wasn't subtlety. Kgosi's group were hackers…and good ones…the kind who'd figured out the true way into the heart of the torus. They weren't after med-bay access or weapons or even money. They were different. _What had that kaffir woman said? Something about 'it's our time now?"_

"Run through the enemy's data stream again," Kruger ordered the girl. "Pull up all their _kak_ from the last six..no, twelve… hours. Give me anything that looks out of the ordinary."

"What do we say?"

"NOW, dammit!"

Lorelei actually jumped in her seat, eyes wide. "Okay. Just gimme a sec…" She scrolled through the multitude of code, looking for something, anything.

They were perhaps three minutes from their target: a small, well-hidden shaft on the far side of the torus' bottom two spokes which led directly into the nuclear facility. For years Elysium had gotten the vast majority of its energy from the millions of solar cells on its outer rim; that was enough to keep the lights on, the armaments factory running, and the champagne on ice. The nuke reactor had been controversial from the start, though there had never been an accident in a hundred years, and only droids ever ventured to those bowels. It had been put in to help run the biggest drain in the habitat: the semi-porous, invisible shield which kept the air in and the deadly space radiation out, and as a backup source of power in case of emergency or damage to the solar cells. It was relatively clean and efficient, using the helium-3 lunar isotope method the Brazilian Avibras firm had patented decades earlier. But in Elysian terms, it was still the sewer, the backwater, the outhouse.

_Just the sort of place rats love to go. That's it._

"We're getting close," Crowe said through clenched teeth. And he meant it: the narrow opening had been designed for tiny scows, not _Raven-_class gunships. They'd only have a few feet to spare.

"Hurry the fok up! I'm not asking again," Kruger said, speaking to both Lorelei and his pilot.

As Crowe flew them ever nearer, Lorelei frowned. She was up way past her usual bedtime, which normally would have thrilled her. She'd gotten the mercenaries out of prison all on her own, saved them from the bad guys, helped fix their ship. She'd even made them take baths. But no matter what she'd done so far, it had made Kruger mad. He seemed impossible to please. He was, she thought, a lot like her aunt that way. _Young ladies use their manners. They say 'please' and 'thank you.' They hurry the fok up. _She tried not to giggle, knowing that would make things worse. Then she spotted something in the feed. It was a word she remembered vaguely from one of her downloads, but didn't really know.

"Mr. Drake? What's a 'tempest?'" she called over to the Oryx gunner, thinking she'd have better luck with him than Kruger.

"Sort of a storm, I think. Why, _meisie_? Where are you seeing that?" He came over and looked at the comTm screen.

Kruger was on them in an instant. "That's it," he hissed, pulling the pad out of her grasp and pointing. "_Ag sies, _that's their plan! Tempest... that portable EMP device they used on us before. They must have more than one, and if the shields are down, that's all they'll need to cripple this station. It's primitive, all right, but it's brilliant. They must have flown in with the same idea; to use the non-bio codes. That's how they weren't spotted right away. How the fok could I have overlooked that?"

The pad's auto-voice gently announced, '_Entering clearance-orange zone. Elevated levels of radiation detected.' _The tunnel had swallowed the ship whole; ahead was only a dim, iridescent green glow. "Should I turn around, boss?" Crowe said nervously, already knowing that it was too late. The _Raven_'s fuel cells were all but depleted; they wouldn't even be able to get to the torus' outer rings to crash-land. They had to keep going until they found a place wide enough to land.

"Shit. This isn't good, is it?" Beside Kruger, Drake swallowed hard. He'd been subject to the same torture, the same excruciating pain caused by the deceptively small gadget.

_Think, _Kruger told himself. _They may have the numbers, and they may have the weapons…but we have experience. There's still a plan…now stick to it._

"Get out the suits, Drakey. Now." When he spoke, it was strangely calm. That always happened right before he went into battle; it was like the preternatural aura of tranquility before the most violent hurricane. The storm itself wouldn't be far behind. And when it finally arrived, he would no longer be calm.

He'd enjoy himself again, taste the blood of his enemies, revel in their terror. After all that had happened on this day, Kruger felt like he deserved at least that much.

"You mean the greenies?" On board the ship were, among other useful things, a set of Elysian-designed hazmat suits. They weren't body armor and they certainly weren't exo-suits, but they would provide protection against radiation. Like a second skin, they were light and maneuverable, their breathing apparatus a light plexiglass shield worn over the face.

"Yes. And make it quick, eh?"

"Brace yourselves. I can't see a damn thing in here, and the scopes are blind this far inside!" Crowe warned from the pilot box. With a horrible scraping and squealing, the ship touched down at last, sending Kruger and Drake staggering sideways. Kruger was lucky and managed to stay upright; Drake wasn't. He spun hard into one of the ship's walls, and the loud _crack _as his left arm broke was audible even over the din. Several of the alarms, including the fuel cell indicator, the life support system, and the outer shield, wailed in harmony.

The wounded _Raven _wasn't going anywhere else. Wherever they were going, it would be on foot, or in another ship, from here on out.

Strapped into her seat, Lorelei hadn't screamed or even cried during the crash. She sat still, holding her breath and closing her eyes, as if willing all of it to be over. When she opened them again, she heard the alarms still blaring. She was home…sort of."Are we okay?" she asked, in a tiny voice, of no one in particular. When none of the men answered her, she tried to struggle out of her seat with little success. "Hey, guys, a little help here!" she cried, louder this time, but was still ignored.

"That's as rough a landing as I ever wanna make," said Crowe, exhaling deeply. "You boys all right back there? Don't think you were strapped in."

"Never better. Let's get the fok out of here," Kruger answered. He was sick of the artificial gravity, sick of breathing either polluted or canned air, and sick of standing around waiting. Now that they were finally back on the _Grootwiel, _he'd have his chance. "Drakey? How are you, _boet_?"

Up against the wall, Drake groaned. "Fok, boss. I've had better. At least it's not my gun arm, eh? Third time breaking that left one, go figure." He held up his good right arm. "Put me in a med-bay and I'll be just fine," he added, though his bearded face was drawn.

Lorelei had finally managed to release the harness on her seat; she fell in a small heap to the floor. She was tired, felt sick, and desperately wanted more of her vita-water, but she also knew she needed to help. Confidently, the way she'd seen her aunt do so many times, she walked right up to where Kruger and Drake stood. "You have to let me help you," she said, the persistence returning again. "I promise. I won't get in the way."

Stunning her hadn't worked. Nor had locking her in the bunk. She was annoying, but she was smart. Kruger knew something else was needed. In a split second, he made his decision. "You really want to help?" he said, his tone dripping sarcasm.

Lorelei had barely opened her mouth before his hands shot out and struck at her throat, the softest part between the clavicle and windpipe. It was a move that could, and often did, incapacitate people permanently. The flash of the golden connection was there, for an instant, bright and vivid… then died away again as quickly as it had come. It was enough to get Kruger's blood flowing faster, and it wasn't what he'd had in mind.

But there was no more time. The girl was in his way…_and she had a citizen implant, didn't she? She could be fixed. _

As before with the stun gun, the girl fell down, unconscious. Still breathing, but shallowly.

"Christ, boss. Did you have to do that?" Drake said. "She's just a fokken _kid_."

"Wasn't that oke in Nairobi the last one who…" Crowe started, but didn't finish.

"I don't think you two realize this," Kruger stormed, wheeling on them, "but we have a huge fokken problem here. We don't need her. Fok, we'll come back for her if we have to, claim our reward, but our first priority is to kill the enemy before this station falls out of the sky. Do I make myself clear?" All the calm was gone now; the hurricane had reached land.

"Yes, boss," they answered in unison.

"Now get your weapons before I fokken kill you myself!"

_To Be Continued_


	12. Cause For Alarm

Chapter 12

**Author's Notes: Thanks as always to my Wrecking Kru and especially in this chapter for giving me some great plot ideas. Also, as was pointed out to me in the last chapter, Kruger uses some racial slurs to describe his enemies. That's not me talking; that's him talking…and I imagine it to be IC for him. The "magnificent desolation" quote is that of Buzz Aldrin when he first stepped onto the moon, and I think it fits here. Enjoy, boeties!**

It didn't take them long to gear up. Their regular body armor, wrist comms, and weapons had been taken from them, but the squadron made do with an impressive array from the _Raven'_s onboard armory. The two Chemrail rifles for Crowe and Drake, older but still functional armored vests and comlinks that plugged directly into their grafts. Stun guns, a full-sized Asgari pistol each, plenty of the Walkyr grenades, and one particularly sharp, serrated dagger which Kruger had put away some time ago and forgotten. Tying on his ammo belt, he silently cursed and wished he had the additional comforting weights of his katana and generator across his back.

_Ag, well. I'll just have to be extra creative this time. _He finished lacing up his boots and smiled grimly.

The "greenie" Armadyne hazmat suits, unlike the bulky white things Elysian techs sometimes wore, fit almost like a second skin over their fatigues. These had been designed for soldiers, not scientists. On a non-organic access level of Elysium, it was simply a necessary evil. If the Oryx Squadron ran into trouble, as they expected to, maneuvering in these wouldn't be a problem. Even the face shields were light, breathable, and made from a clear plexi which didn't cloud up with exhalation; they attached to an ultra-light oxygen tank worn on the back. The techies had thought of everything.

Everything, it seemed, except what to do with the unconscious girl.

"We can't just _leave_ her here, boss. What if she wakes up again?" Drake insisted. His features were still pinched with pain, though a couple of the powerful Harkkon tabs in the med kit had dulled the agony of his broken arm until he could reach a med-bay. He'd also fashioned strips of a spare tunic into a sling, using his one good hand to hold the rifle.

The hard fact was, the ship was the safest place for her right now. In its present state, fuel cells nearly drained, it wasn't going anywhere, and the insurgents had no good reason to come back to it. The worst the girl could do would be to fire off a few of the onboard armaments…and Kruger knew she wasn't stupid or desperate enough to do that. "Then she wakes up. You want to carry her on your back, eh?" he said.

"No. It's just…" For a moment Drake hesitated. He cocked his head over toward the sleeping Lorelei. "She's so close to home and all. Can't we at least take her back? Where she belongs?"

That was also something Kruger had considered. _Why not claim the reward first, get rid of her once and for all? _Her auntie and mother were probably pissing themselves with worry by now, and they'd pay anything…through private channels, naturally…to get their girl back. But if there were no more torus, no CCB, no Secretary Delacourt? That meant no credits. It meant no future, either. Finding, and killing, Kgosi's assault team had to be their priority. "I appreciate your fokken sentimentality, Drakey. But she stays right here," said Kruger with finality.

"I still don't think she looks well, boss. Even before you did that pinch number on her, she was looking pretty fokken peaky," Crowe pointed out, shutting down the ship's systems one by one so that only the emergency power was left. They were all bathed in the soft electric blue glow, and it made the girl look like a little cherub in the light of a stained-glass window. As for the knockout pinch, Kruger had a hundred years of experience with pressure points and the delicate nerves in every human body. What he'd done was certainly risky…a bit more force, and he might have incapacitated her permanently…but he knew instinctively he'd made the right decision.

The surreal sight of the disappearing shrapnel wound had convinced him earlier. This girl, delicate Delacourt looks or not, was a singularity. Like him, she was a rare species. If he'd doubted it at all, the swirling golden energy she'd sent coursing through him three times now had shattered any remaining skepticism. Short of having her head blown off, he was convinced she'd survive just about anything.

_The sons of bitches finally did it. Made a self-healing entity. I don't know how, but they did. I'd heard rumors of this for years…and here's the result. Not some super-soldier or a hulk who could take me on, but a fokken kid. Unbelievable…but it still doesn't explain why she's able to send that golden thread through me. That's just, well, I don't have a fokken word for what it is._

"Before I shut down the systems just now, boss," said Crowe, interrupting, "I did a readout for where we landed in relation to where we need to be. See, we're in the nuke station tunnel, which is roughly midway down spoke number four," he drew a circle in the air and motioned with his index finger, "and we need to get up to the Hub to find ourselves a workable shuttle, or even an electroskiff if we can't find one of them. Then, once we got that, we can go hunting…"

"How long? And where the fok did those insurgents go? Any sign of them?" Kruger felt his claustrophobia returning; they were stuck in the hinterlands of the torus, and it might be twenty klicks or more just to get back to the main hangar bay. Humans had never been intended to enter this dark, crowded, potentially radioactive space. Tired as he was, he was barely up to running one klick, let alone a few dozen, through the narrow confines on the way back to the surface.

Crowe grinned lopsidedly. "Well, there's sort of good news and bad news. Luckily for us, they have a high-speed lift in this sector, goes right back to Central. For now, the power's still up. Even the clankers don't have to walk on the _Grootwiel_, eh?" The grin faded. "Bad news is, no sign of them, boss. They could be anywhere by now. I'm trying to patch in to the system with this comlink, but everything's still fokked up, eh?"

"I still think she'd be of some use to us, seeing as how she's able to use that comm," Drake muttered, nervously looking over one more time to where Lorelei snoozed away on the floor. "Maybe she could figure out where they are?" He was somehow more worried about leaving her alone than he was about facing the insurgents.

Kruger stepped over to where Drake stood, glaring. "I told you, _no_. If you want your share of the reward credits, as I surely do after all this messed-up _kak_, we need that girl alive and well. Understood?"

Drake had never told Kruger about his little sister Flora, and how long it had taken for her to finally die. He didn't think now was a good time. "Yes, boss," he said, tight-lipped.

"Let's get out of here, then. Drakey, you take point."

With the push of a button, the rear door of the _Raven _lowered. Outside there was only the weird jade glow of the service corridor. Even in the dim lighting, the three of them could see the scorching damage the ship's heat shield had sustained coming back up to Elysium.

"She did her job, didn't she?" Crowe said with admiration, brushing their squadron logo on the side with his free hand. The familiar oryx was still a luminous white in the midst of the peeled and burned paint. "'Course, can't say she won't need some repairs after all this. Bet you anything she'll fly again, though. She's a tough bitch, this one."

Kruger, despite agreeing with Crowe, said nothing; just held up his hand for silence. Just because the enemy didn't appear on readouts didn't mean they weren't close by. He and his men could see well enough in the dark, with their enhanced vision implants, plus their weapons were equipped with heat and motion detectors. A quick sweep of the service bay revealed no organics, just the empty shuttle the insurgents had flown up in, and a couple of motionless Apifors mech droids slumped next to the wall. That was odd. When Kruger went to inspect one of them, he saw none of its systems were up. It wasn't in sleep mode; it was completely dead. Just a pile of useless metal and components.

"Kaput, boss." Drake spoke for him; he was examining the second droid. "How'd that happen, you figure? Do you think all the clankers are like this?"

He wasn't sure, but there was only one way Kruger knew of to incapacitate the droid forces. It wouldn't have happened easily….and it wouldn't have happened without a very specific command. "We have to get to that lift. Hurry up about it…Crowe, you lead the way," he ordered them.

It might be ten minutes or more to get back to Central, even with a high-speed lift. That was time they couldn't afford. _Then, we need to find a shuttle that still flies…find out where the hell these fokkers are and what their game is…take them out before they take this whole station out…_

"Where the fok are you going?" Kruger noticed Drake trotting back toward the ship.

"I'll be back just now, sir. Forgot one of the weapons I needed."

Ignoring Kruger's seething expression, Drake jumped back up onto the lowered ramp. Inside the _Raven_ it was so quiet he could hear only the hum of the emergency system and the girl's shallow breathing. She was the reason he'd come. The boss was right; Lorelei could be a pest, but after all she'd done for them, including foolishly risking her own life, he couldn't just leave her. Not without giving her something in return.

"Lessee," said Drake under his breath, setting down the railgun. He knew that at any moment Kruger might come in and catch him in the act of open defiance. With his good arm, he hastily gathered up a handful of items he thought might give her a chance until they returned, leaving them by her side. A few of the remaining protein bars they hadn't eaten, a blanket, the ship's med-kit with its array of pills, and, almost as an afterthought, the silver Asgari pistol Kruger had left behind. Drake chuckled dryly. The kick was enough to knock her flat, but there was no better or more powerful weapon for a small hand. He also attached a homing device to the girl's camo sleeve. _At least if I can't be here, I'll know she's all right._

Finally, he cracked open a water canteen and held it up to let some of it trickle down her throat. She was swallowing it gingerly…that was a good sign…but her eyelids stayed shut. The girl was weak, exhausted and hungry, just like the mercenaries themselves. The difference was, they were trained for this. She wasn't. She was just a little scared kid who had never known anything but the comforts of Elysium. Drake leaned down and gently stroked the girl's blonde hair away from her forehead.

"Hold on, _meisie. _You're gonna be just fine. Just stay here and be safe…and we'll be back for you, all right?"

"Drakey, you in there wanking or something?" Kruger's angry shout broke the moment. "Get your ass out here now!"

"Right, boss. Coming!" He gave her one last worried look, hoping it wouldn't be the last, and then left her alone once more. Picking up his rifle, he hustled to join his squad outside.

~~s~~

Crowe's downloaded schematics for this sector had been, so far, accurate to a fault. The three men made their way silently upward through the service corridor to the #4 lift. Kruger kept the rear watch, still wary that their quarry might have booby-trapped the passageways, or else left a man of their own behind. There had been nothing but more powered-down droids and darkness. Still, he was hypervigilant. Back down on Earth, he'd let his guard slip, and that was why they found themselves in their present predicament.

There was an automated voice coming from somewhere in the distance. It was the typical cool, mechanical female tone which, on Elysium, could mean anything from a report of perfect weather to an announcement that the apocalypse was nigh. Kruger had a feeling, at this point, it was something more toward the latter. "Drakey, _boet_, see if you can get a heading on that signal. And amplify it," he said.

"Copy that." His gunner, awkwardly, adjusted the comlink on his wrist with his dangling left hand. "It's on the speakers outside this passageway, on one of the bio-accessible levels. Coming up on the device now. Let's have a look."

The words scrolled by rapidly, their meaning unmistakable:

…**CODE RED THREE, ALL ELYSIUM CITIZENS/CCB EMPLOYEES TO DESIGNATED SAFE LOCATIONS…THIS IS NOT A DRILL…PLEASE STAY CALM AND ORDERLY…**

"Fok me. Just…fok me," said Kruger, his voice deceptively as calm as the automated announcer's. He kept moving as he spoke; time was precious. "The bastards actually did it. Overrode the command system, shut down all the droids. I don't agree with that ice-mare bitch on much, but," his lips twitched at the mere thought of Secretary Delacourt, "she always said this would happen one day if there weren't a garrison, a _real_ fokken garrison, up here. Now it has. _Fok_."

"D'you think it was the mole, boss?" asked Crowe. "Inside job?"

That thought had been tantalizingly just out of reach all day. Someone had been feeding valuable information down to Kgosi's group, someone with access to the inner circles of the CCB and, presumably, who knew the Defense Secretary well. That was who they really wanted, and it could be any number of people. It would also have to be a person, Kruger knew, who was aware of Delacourt's inner workings, how she preferred to use him and his men to clean up the tougher messes instead of going through more conventional channels. _Probably put that blerrie bottle of liquor on board my ship, too. Whoever it was, they knew just how to target us._

Drake's comlink was now picking up the klaxon wailing of alarms. It was a sound usually only heard in drills, and it meant something was seriously wrong. "Jesus. What the hell," he muttered. "Boss, I hope you've got a plan."

"Any link with the Control Room?" Kruger barked at Crowe. "Armory, emergency bunkers, something that would actually fokken tell us what we're going into?"

The pilot shook his head. "Can't figure why, but nothing's working. They," he said, referring to the insurgents, "must have some kinda bug jamming everything. I can't get around it, especially on this piece of _kak._" The alarms, and the emergency alerts, kept repeating somewhere outside the concrete walls, the eerie sound echoing in the narrow passageway.

Kruger fought the absurd urge to laugh. The few times he'd actually needed a comms officer, one was never around. The female announcer's voice requested, in that annoyingly clipped precision, how everyone should just stay calm. _My arse. It's easy to stay calm when you're up in the…_

He froze. He could kick himself for not thinking of it. The Control Room, of course. If the system was being jammed but emergency alerts were still going out, it meant they were originating from there. Those comms were all DNA-locked to a select few. Which meant someone…and he was willing to bet, the mole…was enabling the system with their genetic code. Kruger didn't know all the inner circle by name, preferring to privately refer to them as "_jou bliksem_" or something even ruder, but he knew it could be one of only a dozen. Maybe fewer.

_When you find the head, you cut it off…and the body dies, right? _There was a good chance that he'd find most, if not all, of Kgosi's men along with the traitor, maybe holding the inner circle hostage. Then he could have fun with the insurgents, give them a nice, warm, bloody welcome to Elysium. His dark eyes flashed, and he found himself grinning.

"How far is it to the lift?" Kruger said to Crowe. He was summoning strength from his deep reserves, and now that he knew where his target was, the hunger, thirst, and exhaustion were temporarily forgotten. The bloodlust coursed through him now, as strong as Lorelei's touch had before. It was warm only with the promise of destruction, not the gentle balm of healing.

His men both stared at him. They'd seen that look in his eyes many times before, and they knew to keep a respectable distance while still following orders. "Not too far, boss. You gonna be okay?" Drake said nervously.

"Great!" Kruger silently wished again that he had his favorite weapon, but he knew he could make the serrated knife he now carried work just as well. "Once we get topside, we find a craft…any craft that still flies…and we make for Control. We're looking for the one CCB traitor _doos _who did all this. Once we find him," he brandished the weapon, miming a throat slash, "he's mine. Understood?"

Crowe nodded solemnly and said nothing. Drake cleared his throat. A thought had just occurred to him. "Boss, what if it's a her?"

"Eh?"

"About half of the Control workers are chicks. Could easily be one of them, too," Drake said quietly but firmly. The last thing he needed was for Kruger to reprimand him while holding a blade. "Just a thought. What then?"

"Then," Kruger re-sheathed the knife suggestively, moving it in and out, "I think I'll enjoy myself even more, you know?" The grin on his bearded face was feral and terrifying. "Let's get to that lift while there's still fokken power in this place!"

The alarms continued to blare, with no there to hear except the three of them, who hurried along the deserted corridor, stepping occasionally over the slumped forms of dead droids.

"There." In the glow of the lamps was the tall, unmistakable door with **L4L1 **painted on it. Kruger stepped forward and placed his palm on the pad to summon the lift. It responded immediately.

He'd finally be getting out of this maze of tunnels, finally be able to strip the hazmat suit off, and, most importantly, finally be able to do what he enjoyed most.

_Things are looking the fok up after all._

The three of them stepped in, the door slid shut with a hiss, and they shot upward.

~~s~~

_She wanders through a path that twists and turns through bloodied dimness. There are dead bodies all around her, some of them not even recognizable as human anymore. One of them snaps its head up, lower jaw missing, and stares at her with bloodied eye sockets. Though it isn't actually talking, she hears what it says, obscenely, in her mind._

Lorelei. Sweet girl, lovely girl. Come here, won't you?

_No, she says. I have something important I need to do. Even if I'm not sure what it is._

_ When she sees the hint of light, she runs, faster and faster, toward it. When she gets to the end, she gasps. She is looking out over the Earth, and it's more beautiful than any night ever spend peering out of her bedroom window. It's like she is standing on the precipice of the torus itself, staring out into that magnificent desolation._

_ The torus. Something is wrong. She doesn't know how, but she knows._

_ "Lorelei." Her name again. She turns around._

_ There are people standing on the edge with her. Some of them she knows-her aunt, her mother, the girl from next door. They smile at her, but they are sad too. Others are strangers._

_ "Why are you here?"_

_ "We need your help, Lorelei. All of us."_

_ She doesn't understand. She is small, helpless, timid. "I don't know why you're asking me. Don't you want a soldier or something? Like…" She thinks of the dark-eyed man, the leader of the mercenary squad who looks at her like a wolf looks at a lamb. He wants to hurt her...but he can't. He is the one she is drawn to like iron filings to a magnet. She forces herself to say his name. "Agent Kruger?"_

_ And he is there too, wild dark hair and beard standing out amid the line of blondes and greys. That wicked gleam dances in his eyes._

_ "If I go down, little _meisie_," he draws the huge sword on his back and places its tip under her chin, "you go down with me…"_

_ Lorelei screams. And screams, and screams._

"No. NO!"

She gulped in lungfuls of air, and sweat beaded on her face. Lorelei blinked, trying to make that last image go away.

It had been a dream. It wasn't real. She was safe…_maybe? _

For a moment, she didn't know where she was. Then, as the fog of sleep lifted, she recognized the softly glowing control panels and metal plates. She was back in the _Raven_, just where Kruger had left her.

She groaned and staggered to her feet. Vertigo threatened to black her out again, but she remained upright. A million thoughts, just like the millions of stars in her dream, danced in her mind. Two of them burned more brightly than the others.

_I think that the guys need me. Again. Not sure why, but I know they do. And when I find them, they really owe me an apology this time. Knocking a child out just isn't nice._

Lorelei grabbed the comm pad from inside her jacket pocket and started to work.

_To Be Continued_


	13. Break, Don't Bend

Chapter 13

**Author's Notes: Thanks to the Wrecking Kru (my betas/friends) and to everyone for their incredible support for this story. I'd also like to offer fair warning that this is going to get bloody from here on out. It is, after all, a Kruger story. Thanks and enjoy!**

The lift, in true Elysian style, continued to play soft classical music in between the distant alarms and announcements to seek shelter. Piano; maybe Chopin. Kruger wished he could take his pistol and blow the speaker right out of the wall. If the tunnels had been bad, this was worse. Because it was a non-bio level, there was no view outside; just four metallic walls. He was a seething cauldron of raw nerve endings, and the music, though it was designed to, did nothing to soothe him. Thankfully they were moving along at a fast clip. The power was still fully functional; they'd be at their destination soon enough.

"What are we gonna do once we get up there, boss?" Drake asked, not wanting to interrupt the brooding Kruger, but unable to keep quiet anymore. In all the hurried confusion surrounding their escape and subsequent crash, they'd not had much time to talk tactics. Usually they didn't need to. Each of the three Oryx Squadron members knew what the others were thinking without so much as a look. They'd done so for a hundred years and lived to tell.

This time, it was different. What they did tonight might determine whether there was still an Elysium at all.

Kruger didn't look at him, just stared at some fixed point above the heavy lift doors. "If you see one of those little rats, you kill it. Understand?" His voice was low, gravelly. He sounded and looked exhausted, the lines in his weathered face even more pronounced than usual in the blue-white glare of the lift lights. "I shouldn't even have to fokken tell you that."

"Just checking." Drake looked away, not wanting to make eye contact.

The whole time they'd been in the lift, Crowe had been trying, and failing, to get through on some channel, any channel, to the command post. He looked up suddenly. "That's it?" he said in disbelief.

"That's it." Kruger kept staring, a haunted gleam in his dark, feral eyes.

Neither Crowe nor Drake dared point out the obvious to him: that they still had no idea what they were getting into. How many enemies there were, what kinds of weapons they might have, and if they'd have to face the terrible effects of the deadly Tempest devices again. For all they knew they could be walking right into another trap. The whole insurgent party could be waiting outside the lift doors, weapons drawn.

Or, just maybe, the element of surprise would be on the Oryx Squadron's side this time.

"At least we can get these off, eh?" Drake said, trying to break the terrible silence. He used his one good hand to awkwardly strip off the face shield and outer part of the hazmat suit. The suit's sensors, as well as the lift's, indicated no traces of radiation. It was one less layer to slow them down. "Can't say I won't want to get in a med-bay soon." He kept talking and tried not to stare at the homing device tracker on his wrist cuff. So far, the girl remained right where they'd left her.

"That does feel better, I gotta say," agreed Crowe, likewise shedding his greenie suit. His muscular arms, like Drake's, were a bas-relief map of cuts, bruises and burns from the earlier torture. The cool, sterile air of the lift provided at least some relief. "I'm right behind you on the med-bay, _boet_."

Chopin gave way to something with violins. Maybe it was Mozart. Kruger didn't know and didn't care. He wasn't listening to the other two bantering away; he was only listening to the quiet but fierce warrior's voice in his mind. It was the one which had helped keep him alive against all the odds for so long. It was also the one which whispered to him of the promises of battle, the pure adrenaline rush that came only from a good kill. His night was just getting started.

_Not one of them will be left alive. Not after what they did to me and the boys. Fok the CCB and their rules of engagement. This one is personal. _

"You think you could keep it down?" Kruger snapped, his trance broken and gaze moving from the dead space to glare at his men. If he didn't get out of this tin can soon and start doing his job again, his nerves were going to snap for good.

"Sorry, boss. Didn't mean to offend." Drake had finished stripping out of the hazmat suit and picked up the rifle from where he'd set it down. His eyes briefly flicked to the comlink, and he hoped Kruger wouldn't notice. "Any idea when we'll be up at the Hub?"

Crowe answered for them. "Couple minutes by my reckoning. Get those weapons charged up and ready, boys."

Kruger had already done that, then checked again for good measure. He carried half a dozen deadly weapons on his person; not his usual stuff, but all quality goods. Somehow, tonight, he wanted to use all of them. _And then, if I'm in a creative mood, I might just use my hands. Or my teeth. And I'm really hoping our traitor is a girl, so then, I can use the nastiest fokken weapon in my arsenal. _He felt his lips curling up in a wolfish grin.

From the corner of one eye, he saw Drake staring. Over the years his fellow agents had seen him in this anticipatory mood many times. It never failed to elicit the same response: a curious blend of rah-rah inspiration, awe, and horror.

"If I ask you something, sir, will you be honest?" His gunner stood looking at him, unblinking, concern on his bruised face.

"As long as it's not quick, and not some stupid-ass question, Drakey," Kruger muttered.

Drake hesitated, then spoke. "What were you gonna do with that little girl?"

It was Kruger's turn to be surprised. He hadn't figured his men knew about that, as he hadn't said a word, and the idea itself was strictly a fallback plan. There was still every chance they'd get the reward credits from her aunt and mother without ever having to sell the little brat to strangers halfway around the world. Somehow, they must have guessed anyway. "Nothing you fokken need concern yourself with. Drop it," he warned.

But Drake didn't. Across the lift, Crowe was looking at him as if to say, _Don't do it._ Drake knew he was stepping way over the line, pulling the dragon's tail, but he'd seen the way his boss had been looking so hungrily at Lorelei. He didn't like it one bit. Kruger may not have been into the underage ones _that_ way, but it didn't mean he didn't mean the girl any harm. "She's a Delacourt, for Chrissakes. You know what will happen to us if she gets hurt?" He decided to play the safest card in the deck. "Or killed?"

"You think I don't fokken know that?" spat Kruger.

"I'm just saying," Drake said carefully, knowing each word might be his last, "we might wanna be more careful with her is all. She's gotta be worth a lot, eh?" That was sure to get Kruger in a better mood.

"You have no idea…"

The lift ground to a halt, and the cool automated voice spoke again, interrupting whatever Kruger had been meaning to say. "_Welcome to Main Port Central. Please mind the gap." _

"Time to work, boys. Let's go." The subject was dropped without another word.

The doors slid open with a soft hiss. Crowe and Drake, all thoughts of chatter forgotten, moved to cover the entrance. "Clear. At least for now," assured Crowe, though the space before them was immense and mostly dark.

Kruger stepped off the lift, glad to be free at last of its claustrophobic confines. He carried the pistol almost casually in his right hand. "Where are you hiding?" he purred to no one in particular. The Hub, as it was called, could easily hold scores of large-scale aircraft and their crews. Only a few appeared to remain, mostly the red CCB internal security helicopters moored to their pads. This, the center of the torus, was equal parts hangar bay, warehouse, command post, and enormous crow's nest. Normally it would have been crewed by hundreds of worker and Homeland security droids; every last one of them appeared to be as dead as the ones in the nuke plant. Kruger kicked at one as he passed, just to make sure. Nothing. _Wouldn't have happened if it were really alive._

The view, of course, was spectacular: the outer ring slowly turning in front of the Earth, which glowed as brightly as a suspended sapphire in the blackness beyond. Even the aurora, the shimmering solar storm of blues, greens and violets, was putting on a show tonight above the polar region.

Not one of them noticed. They were all looking elsewhere. In this place were countless places to hide. Too many places for an ambush.

"Crowe, you find us something that flies. Preferably something with one hell of an arsenal. Make it quick," ordered Kruger, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm on it, boss." The big pilot, Chemrail in hand, trotted off toward the parked choppers. If they weren't in repair, one of them would fit the bill nicely.

Drake had been flicking glances at his wrist comm all the while. Lorelei had moved the slightest bit, which told him she was, at least, awake. Probably hadn't left the _Raven_. Something else was showing up on his rifle scanner which was decidedly closer…and bigger. It wasn't moving. "Think I got something here, boss," he whispered.

"Where?"

"Over behind that pile of crates, seventy meters down. It's alive, whatever it is. Just the one," Drake said, indicating to Kruger where he meant. "And it's not indicating a citizen ID. You think it's one of them?"

The corners of Kruger's mouth quirked up. Drake had seen that look before. "One way to find out, isn't there?" He beckoned with his pistol. "Come on. You take the left, I'll go right."

Once they had crept into line of sight distance, they both saw that their stealth was unnecessary. And, why the scanner hadn't indicated movement. They got much closer; still nothing moved. It was one of Kgosi's men, and the stupid _maaifoedie _was asleep. Or just unconscious, judging by the blast wound to his leg. Kruger recognized him, too: the slender, nervous-looking one who'd frog-marched him to the cell back at the compound.

The grin on Kruger's face was that of a shark who'd scented blood in the water. _I told you I'd play with you later, didn't I, _boytjie?

"Where are the others?" mouthed Drake. He didn't want to either wake up the sleeping man or give away their position if others were watching.

"That's what this one's gonna tell us, boet." Kruger had already drawn the serrated knife. He could have simply sliced open his enemy's throat, make him die before he even slumped fully to the floor. Sometimes he enjoyed kills like that. This time, he needed information. This unlucky sentry would provide it to him, one way or another. "Didn't I say I'd be back?" he sing-songed horribly, digging the wicked tip a hairsbreadth into the soft flesh under the man's chin. "Wake up, now. We have some questions for you."

The insurgent's dark eyes were open instantly, and wide with fear. When he saw Kruger crouching there, the knife held millimeters from his jugular, he babbled out a stream of words in his native tongue.

"Sorry, I didn't understand." Kruger dug the knifepoint into the soft flesh just below the chin…not enough to kill or even wound, but enough to make the kid gasp in sudden pain. "We're looking for your friends, _boytjie_. Would you be so kind to tell us where they are and what they're up to?" Or," the knife went in a bit further, "do I have to show you exactly how fokken sharp this blade is?"

"I don't know. They tell me nothing. I am just keeping guard. It is the truth! Please!" The young man's Xhosa-accented voice was choked with fear. He couldn't have been more than twenty or so, but he was wiry and strong-looking despite his wound. "Let me go and I swear, I will tell no one."

Kruger was hearing none of it. However young this one was, he had to have been brought up here for a reason. He knew _something._ It was always in the eyes. And this little bastard was lying. "Wrong answer," he spat, and in one swift motion, sliced the other man's left ear clean off. This time, the scream was instant and soul-shattering.

"Jesus," hissed Drake under his breath. His gaze was torn between their empty stretch of the Hub as he kept watch, and the bright spray of blood as it spouted and dappled the metal floor. He'd been witness to countless numbers of Kruger's interrogations over the years, conducted them himself, even…but the howls and wails of agony never failed to register. He was weirdly relieved that Lorelei didn't have to witness any of this. "Can't we hurry it up a little, boss?"

"_Eish_! I am telling you the truth, crazy _umlungu_!" The kid had to made of something strong not to be bawling. He just sat there and defiantly stared back at the knife-wielding Kruger, clapping a hand to the ruined left side of his head. "Naceba, she said to wait here. Until she gets back from the command center. Watch our shuttle. I am hurt by the droids; they left me here. That's it!"

Without knowing it, he'd just made two crucial mistakes. Kruger pounced right away, eyes blazing. "So, you do know something, eh? Why didn't you say so earlier?" He buried the still-bloody knife all the way into the man's uninjured right thigh, and this time the scream was truly soul-splitting. "Could have saved me a lot of time."

Drake shuddered despite himself. The boss had always liked to play with his food. This had to be just a light appetizer.

What few words could be understood from the injured man's ramblings were probably either profanities or prayers. They were a mewled, pleading patois of Xhosa and English. "Stop…tell you all I know…hurts bad…" He sputtered. Blood was everywhere now, including all over Kruger's hands.

"I'm in a hurry right now, and I'm sure you'll understand that. So I need you to speed things up a bit for me. Yes or no answers, please," Kruger said, his voice eerily calm and polite. He still held the hilt of the knife where it was buried in the young man's flesh. "Are there are least ten of you?"

"Yes…I mean, I think so. I didn't count," the kid gasped. "I'm just a guard, I swear!"

Kruger pulled the serrated edge out. More screams. This time, he seized the insurgent's right hand, hacked at somewhat clumsily it until it severed, then continued as if nothing had happened. The screams died to barely conscious whimpers. "Hope that wasn't your dominant one. Pay attention, now. Yes or no answers."

"He's gonna bleed out, boss," Drake warned.

"No, he won't, Drakey. These slum rats are tough. Got a lot of blood in 'em." Kruger said grimly without looking up. "Aren't you tough?"

"Yes."

In the kid's eyes, Kruger saw the reflected terror along with the shock of pain and blood loss. _Perfect…now that he's dropped his stupid tough-oke act, I'm getting somewhere. _"Naceba. That the uppity _teef_ I met earlier? The one who hung me upside down, and was going on about 'my time is coming' and all that _kak_?"

"Yes." A tear trickled down the kid's cheek.

"She in charge?"

"N…no."

That was interesting. Despite her sex, Kruger would have picked her out as the leader. Maybe it was the old man…her grandfather, he'd overheard her say. But he was in a wheelchair and looked on the verge of death. _Who, then? _ "You know who _is_ in charge?"

"No." This time, the kid wasn't lying. Kruger was sure of it. There was just primal fear in the eyes now.

Drake heard his comlink beeping. There was a single-line message from Crowe, and for once it was encouraging:

**GOT RAPTOR FUELLED AND READY, READY WHEN YOU ARE! –C. PS GOT WEAPONS ALSO!**

"Boss, Crowe says we're all set with a chopper. Just need to know when and where." It had been a relief to look away from the gore, even for a moment. He'd also stolen a glance at his other bracer, the one with Lorelei's tracer on it. She was still staying put. Drake exhaled in private relief.

"You have anything else you need to tell us?" If Kruger had heard the good news, he gave no indication. He was still poised mere inches away from the wounded insurgent, knife in hand. He let out a horrible, wry chuckle. "It's okay if you need to elaborate a bit." The sight, and smell, of blood always made him giddy that way.

Though the young man's skin was a warm brown, the blanch was obvious. "She said something about a griffin…and a nest…honestly, I have no idea what she meant. Please, please don't hurt me any more." The words came out as a strangled, desperate plea. A dark stain had spread across the front of his rough canvas pants.

"See, was that really so difficult?" Kruger grinned and reached out one bloody hand to pat the wounded man on the shoulder amiably. "One other thing, though." The other darted out, serrated blade flashing, and buried the weapon into his throat. The amiability vanished, and in its place the cold, merciless fury in Kruger's voice. "I don't fokken like being called 'crazy.'"

The insurgent, eyes still staring, was dead before he hit the ground. His blood pooled around him like some grotesque scarlet river.

"Lucky for him we're in a hurry, eh?" Kruger wiped the blade on the leg of his trousers. "Otherwise I might have really had to cause him some pain."

Drake said nothing, just nodded. It was impossible to tell what might set the boss off in these situations. "You did him right," he agreed, thinking again of the girl and how she might have adversely reacted in the midst of all this. "Let's get the fok out of here, eh? You thinking the same thing about what he said? Griffin's Nest?"

"Control room. Has to be," said Kruger, stepping over the bloodied body as if it were a log in his path. "And I don't think they even know we're coming. Let's surprise them." The smile had returned, but it had all the warmth of a sunless winter day.

~~s~~

"Come _on!_ This always works!"

Lorelei had spent the last half hour trying to patch into the system, using all the shortcuts she normally used to get around Elysium's top-level, multilayered security and sneak into the really interesting places. So far she'd come up empty.

Of course, she was really tired. And felt like she needed to throw up. Considering the only option was the filthy bucket, which was now broken, she resisted the temptation. She chewed at one of the protein bars and wished she had some of the blue water to go with it.

The Griffin's Nest was the codename for _Tante_ Jessica's office. The CCB headquarters. Even the pros had trouble getting in there. Lorelei had been doing it for at least a year. Now, all she was getting was more of the confusing code, the same stuff that Kgosi's team had been using down on Earth. That was impossible. She should be seeing only the Elysium systems…

Her aunt's voice was clear in her mind despite the fog of nausea and exhaustion. _The most dangerous enemies are the ones within._

Of course. Someone was working for the bad guys. Lorelei used the Dragonfly to flick back through the inner circle dossiers. A dozen people. She'd met all of them at some point or another; her aunt was friends with more than a few. They looked back at her, profile pictures unblinking and humorless.

_If I were a bad guy, what would I look like? Mustache? Bad wig? No, that's just silly. _Lorelei yawned and scrolled through yet again.

And then, one of the annotations, a minor thing, really… jumped out at her. It was as if a bit of hot molten metal had landed on her skin. Her aunt's superior, mocking tone spoke again. _You must pay attention to detail, _petit. _Many a battle has been lost for want of a nail_. It was one of her favorite sayings; it referred to a long long time ago when people still rode horses and used swords. Now it seemed more important than ever.

_I know who it is now…I'm pretty sure. How am I gonna let the men know so they can do something about it?_

_To Be Continued_


	14. A Girl Worth Fighting For

Chapter 14

**Author's Notes: I've changed the synopsis (and the title!) of the story to reflect where it's been going. Still can't believe this started as a crack-fic jammed with bathroom humor. Thanks once again to the Wrecking Kru (leave your sanity, Krugerstop, MauMauKa, ivebeenkrugered, Jobana Ballack, Serenitysparrow) for your awesome support and readership.**

The scarlet Raptor helicopter was the only bird in the air over Elysium. That had to be a first. Usually there were aircars and Homeland Defense vehicles and any number of shuttles, legal or otherwise, making their way within, to or from the torus. The silence tonight was deafening.

As they hurtled through the night, Kruger wondered just how it was these people lived. Their world, trillions of credits and a hundred years in the making, was really just a house of cards, built on an impossible dream and sustained only through untold quantities of sweat and blood. He smirked. His job was made possible in part because the average citizen didn't want to get his hands dirty, never wanted to learn anything practical like marksmanship or martial arts. Oh, no. These were the kind that paled at the thought of even having to kill time. That was what the CCB paid Kruger and his team for: so that Mr. and Mrs. Filthy Rich could sit, in perpetual ignorant tanned bliss, by the sides of their pools, neither knowing nor caring who it was who kept them all safe.

_They're fokken idiots. They may pay well, but that's all the use I have for them. And they keep my house up here well-stocked with all the things I like. And, you know, their house of cards can be brought down with one good gust of wind. This just happens to be a hurricane._

Below them, the nighttime lights still glittered brightly. Mansion after mansion, at least in this sector, was lit up like a Christmas tree. Whatever else Kgosi's team had done to the comms, the shields, and seemingly the entire cadre of droids, they hadn't completely knocked out the power. Without the protection of the nearly invisible, but vital, plasma energy shields, Elysium would burn to a crisp in the punishing solar glare. Their portable EMP devices had to be useful that way: it was their surgical precision that Kruger quietly admired.

"You seen anybody down there? Anything live? Hell, even a droid?" Drake asked above the rhythmic, mechanical hum of the engines. He was clearly unnerved by the lack of movement, and held the chopper's door gun at the ready with his good arm.

Kruger shook his head. He hadn't really expected to. At the first whisper of trouble, the residents would have scurried like frightened rabbits underground, either to a bunker or one of the near-impregnable panic rooms. Over the years, after many unannounced landings of shuttles full of unwashed, desperate Earthlings, the panic rooms were now as common as Olympic-size pools and tennis courts. That was what happened, he thought, to a coddled society which relied on clankers for home defense. They got complacent…and lazy. If and when he got out of this mess, he intended to have a long shouting session with the Defense Secretary on the matter.

"This thing is pretty incredible, boss." Crowe whistled appreciatively from the front seat. "Don't hardly have to fly it, just have to DNA-wire it and enter the right coordinates. Command Center is ten minutes away; we'll be coming up fast." It was an AI ship; it didn't even have a true flight deck like the _Raven_. Its action, though, was nearly as smooth as their usual gunship's, and it boasted three rail cannons, a battery of heat-seekers, and dozens of scopes. Like the _Raven_ it also had a clutch of cam-droids. They had flown ahead to scout. The readouts they were sending back was as confusing as the rest of the data. Scrambled, useless, full of interference. These insurgents were good.

"Still no comms?" Kruger said from his crouched-over position by the door. He was ready to hit the ground running if need be.

"Got all kinds of readings, but damn, if they're not gumming up the internal comms. I couldn't so much as send a wrister text if I tried, and I have."

That was their other problem. They still had no idea what they were getting into. Kruger swore under his breath. "What do the instruments tell you?" he snapped, annoyed that he even had to ask.

Crowe kept the craft steady, but shook his head. "Not much other than the total number of warm bodies at HQ, boss. I do know there's two dozen of ours in the control room. They all got citizen markers. Looks like a couple of 'em might be down, or at least wounded. Then there's a dozen more scattered throughout the place. They're not moving; I'll assume they're being kept hostage. That leaves…" he squinted at the screen in front of him, "thirteen unknowns, probably all hostiles. Lucky number, eh?"

"I dunno about you, but I don't like going in outnumbered four to one. Even if we're better armed and got the element of surprise," Drake called out over the rotors. "What's the plan once we land, boss?"

They were close now; HQ was maybe five minutes away. Below them, the #2 Islandia golf course and the botanical gardens abruptly gave way to the command sector, all chrome, steel and ultramodern buildings. Drake was right. The three of them- or, really, two and a half with the gunner's arm broken-would be foolish to try a frontal assault. Command might be booby-trapped. It might be set to explode the minute help arrived. Or, worst of all, some of the hostages might get killed. The thought of a potential bloodbath bothered Kruger a lot less than the lectures from Delacourt he got whenever that happened.

He saw Delacourt's frigid sneer in his mind's eye; blinked to make it go away. The girl's face, her miniature doppelganger, sweet and mischievous with that little upturned nose, replaced it. That was almost worse.

If the _nagmerrie_ were here, he knew, she'd just be annoying him, making inappropriate comments about hygiene instead of trying to solve the problem at hand. Maybe making her head float in the air under the…

_Stealth cloak. Deception. Misdirection. Of course…that's it. How did I miss that before? She got in past a whole fokken compound of armed men, by herself, under that thing. I knew there was a reason I'd kept it. Sometimes I forget there are other tools in the box besides a sledgehammer and a big knife._

"Drakey?" He looked over to where the gunner leaned slightly out the side door, cannon at the ready. "You remember to bring my cloak along?"

"_Ja_. I thought maybe you…" Drake stopped, realized what he was getting at, grinned lopsidedly. "That's it! You thinking what I'm thinking, boss?"

Kruger nodded. The three of them had been alive too long not to have run into a similar predicament in their line of work. And in this case, what seemed like an impossibility might just be a golden opportunity. "Even the Griffins' Nest, that impregnable bitch, has a way in. Just gotta know where to look, eh? And I do," he announced confidently.

"You want me to land on the southeast helipad, boss?" Crowe had swung the chopper into an approach vector. The Command Center loomed large in front of them; its nighttime lights stark and forbidding.

"Forget that _kak_. We're taking the back way in this time. Use that old trick we played on the oke down in Columbia. You got me?"

Crowe likewise grinned. "Just tell me where, and I'll put this bird down, sir. I got you just fine."

~~s~~

Secretary Delacourt hated tight, confined, windowless spaces. The whole point behind the torus had been to avoid them altogether. The room she found herself in now was one of the few in the entire habitat, and it was beginning to suffocate her and the three members of her staff confined within.

"What do you think is happening up there?" It was Thandi, one of her PAs, who spoke. She was a nervous, timid type with a silly bouffant hairstyle and worse fashion sense, but she really knew her tech stuff.

"You know as well as I do." In her twenty-year tenure as Defense Secretary, Delacourt had repelled thousands of undesirables, invaders and illegals…but none so brash, or skilled, as the ones who kept half the staff on the Aegis project hostage at present. They'd used the confusion surrounding the shield tests to cripple the CCB sector entirely, jam all the comms, and prevent any droid squadron from coming to the rescue. They'd also chosen the low-tide hour to make their attack. They were good. And their demands were likewise steep.

The one holoscreen in the room, and everyone's wrist comms, scrolled the insurgents' ultimatum over and over, maddeningly monotonous. It was a simple recording of the tired-looking old man who called himself Kgosi, which had repeated for the last hour or so, when they'd seized control. They wanted a hundred or so of their "comrades" released from a max-sec prison in Nairobi, records expunged, new identities, no questions asked. And then they'd had the audacity to ask for a shuttle back to Earth, and a billion untraceable credits on top of it. No doubt to fund all the mischief they'd be up to once they got out. Delacourt scowled.

If it were up to her, prisons wouldn't need to exist at all, just executions. None of this "correctional" nonsense. Sadly it was, at present, not up to her. There were majorities and consensus needed. Hers was just one vote.

"Who do you think is negotiating with them? The President?" Another of Thandi's annoying habits: she kept chattering away when everyone else was silent. "And do you think they'll be able to get us out of here?"

Delacourt had wondered that herself. Patel hadn't been present for the shield tests; he was, last she knew, halfway around the torus in his own mansion, doing something more important. _Probably sitting in his Jacuzzi, or sleeping._ The next highest authority who _had_ been around was Vice-President Shin…and he was even more weak and indecisive than his superior.

The only thing she knew with certainty was that the Kgosi raiding party didn't have Lorelei. If they had, they would have been asking for a lot more than political prisoners and money. Delacourt gritted her teeth. Ever since this whole mess started, earlier that day, she'd been obsessively worried about her missing niece. In the midst of all this chaos was a lost little girl, her own flesh and blood. What had happened to her? Was she even alive? She realized that the thought of Lorelei's death was far more troubling than any half-baked coup attempt could be.

As for her sister, the thought had barely crossed her mind. Helene had to be either deep in her own shelter by now, or too strung out to realize a crisis even existed. In that way, Delacourt strangely envied her younger sibling. She'd never been capable of bearing a full burden of adult responsibilities, even after becoming a mother to Lorelei. Helene was damaged mentally…something no med-bay could ever fix.

"Maybe we should just give them what they want," suggested Undersecretary Gerhart aloud. He was another one of Patel's simpering toadies whom Delacourt had never liked. "It's not as if we can't afford it. Take it out of the slush funds." Thandi and the other female staffer, a younger strategist named Kwon, nodded in unison.

"Because we _can't_," Delacourt snapped. The three others stared back, uncomprehending. "Don't you understand that by now? If you give in to demands, it only creates more demands. And then, where does that leave us? Don't any of you have children to think of? Grandchildren?" It was a political argument she'd often used before…and as long as Lorelei lived, would continue to use. "If these…these _illegals_ get what they want, they have no more use for us. There has to be another way."

There was, of course. She'd seen to it years ago; she always believed in backup plans. In this specific worst-case scenario, the panic room, which was impervious to anything short of an atomic blast, led down through the bowels of HQ to an escape shuttle cleverly hidden in plain sight. All she'd have to do would be to get inside, press a button, and…

_Run? Like some coward? No, I won't do that. Besides, where would I go if I did? The Novoparaiso Marte colony, with all those Brazilian energy snobs? One of the outlier camps on some asteroid? That's not where I belong. And I'm not sure I'm willing to let these idiots come along. They've proven useless thus far…_

"I just want out of this box. It's getting so stuffy in here," complained Thandi. Like all Elysian citizens, she was used to a blue sky, light breeze, and refreshments at the touch of a button. A little over an hour inside a shelter with canned air and water, and she'd been reduced to a quivering ball of nervous energy.

"Madame, this is a self-contained intranet system, correct?" Kwon asked nervously from her spot in the far corner.

Delacourt sighed. She'd designed it that way, but for some reason, nothing was going out, only coming in. "Of course. Why?"

"Because," she said, her dark eyes widening, "I think we have two Elysian citizens headed this way, through the tunnel. How they're doing it, I have no idea…"

A light went off in her mind; Delacourt already knew without being told. Only her inner circle…and the Gen 1 CCB agents she trusted most…knew how to get in that way. The DNA lock would only open for those select few. And she had a sinking feeling she knew who the visitor was. The agent who, through sheer bloodlust, bad luck, his unorthodox tactics or a combination thereof, had let this simple operation get out of hand. _Kruger._ She'd sent him and his team down to kill the Kgosi cell, not let it take over Elysium like an aggressive tumor.

"Get that hatch open. Quickly," she ordered Thandi, the nearest of the three to her.

"What hatch, Madame Secretary?"

She realized Thandi was not one who knew about the secret entrance. It was pointless trying to cover it up now. Delacourt wanted to get out before the claustrophobia took over and she cracked. "Here," she said, moving toward the wall and its hidden palm scanner.

A panel, cleverly hidden in the metal floor, slid open with a brief hiss. Two burly men whom she recognized as Kruger's, but whose names she didn't immediately recall, climbed out. They were laden with weapons and wore heavy armor. One thing the panic room didn't have was an armory. She realized she was actually glad to see them.

"Madame Secretary." The one closer to her, a fierce-looking type whose stripe of hair was oddly dyed pink, gave a curt salute. He had his left arm in a sling but showed no indication of pain. "You hurt?"

_Drake. That was his name. _"No, Agent Drake. I'm not even going to ask how it was that you and your team got here, but we can use you now." Delacourt kept her voice cool, trying not to show the fury that now burned inside her. Sleeper agents here on the torus, with their cover completely blown, would require a small mountain of paperwork, and a great many memory wipes, to cover up. She snorted in disgust and paced back and forth. She looked behind him, to where the other agent (_Calhoun? Or was it Cooke?) _was alternating between reassuring her staff and looking at the holoscreen with the looped message. She realized suddenly who was missing.

"Agent Kruger. Where is he?"

Drake blinked at her. These men, in her experience, had all the remorse of venomous snakes. Was that actually a look of sadness? "Ma'am, we barely got out ourselves. He didn't make it."

She felt the breath catch in her throat. Kruger was the one person she always wagered would never die. He loved his job far too much. "How did it happen?" she asked Drake, surprised that she cared at all. Hadn't she once told Kruger, to his face, that he was a very expensive piece of equipment? Did she shed a tear when a shuttle, or a droid, died? How was this different?

The other man spoke instead. "Grenade blast, blew him to bits. Right as we were headed out. At least he died doing something he really enjoyed, eh?" He chuckled drily; no one else joined in.

That reassured Delacourt somewhat. Nevertheless, when she made eye contact with him, she saw something she didn't like. _He was lying._ About what, she wasn't sure…but she'd been alive long enough to read people well. And she intended to find out. "Thank you, Agent Crews," she said coldly.

"It's Crowe, ma'am. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

"Can you help us?" Thandi practically threw herself at Drake, her voice shaking with fear. "There's at least a dozen holding our team hostage. We barely made it out. I think they shot James," she sobbed, looking to Delacourt for confirmation.

She nodded grimly to Drake and Crowe. "What have you got in mind?"

"If it goes right, we won't even have to kill the bastards. You want 'em alive, don't you?" Drake said in his strange, thick accent.

"Of course." Now they were thinking like her. A group like Kgosi's, alive and unharmed, was invaluable for the intelligence they could provide. The sheer number of other hackers they could incriminate down on Earth, whose codes they could crack, was worth billions. It was like finding your very own insurgent playbook. Then, of course, they could be executed once they were no longer of value. "The Karkinos protocol will work just fine, provided you can get me to a station where I can perform a manual override. I'm one of only three people on this station whose DNA will activate it."

The two agents shared a glance. "What is that, ma'am?" asked Crowe.

She wanted to tell them it was classified, but figured they had to know at least something if they'd gotten this far. They were Gen 1's, and Kruger's teammates. Besides, like it or not, she was now responsible for the lives of the three other CCB employees in the room, even if they were just underlings. "No one, including me, thought of everything for this panic room. Kerkinos is one of the newer fentanyl derivatives. Once released into the air delivery system, it will render anyone in the vicinity unconscious. We had it installed, secretly, of course, precisely for such a scenario as this."

"Does…does that mean our people, too?" Gerhart said. His normally ruddy complexion had blanched.

"It means everyone." She fixed her gaze on him, daring him to challenge her decision. "Our people can be revived in the medical wing on level one. Theirs will simply sleep until they can be dealt with properly."

"What about us? What do we do?" Thandi sounded like she was going hysterical. "I've heard that stuff can have side effects, like hallucinations…"

"We," Delacourt said as patiently as she could, "will have breathing apparati." At least the panic room was equipped with those. She looked from person to person, and then her eyes locked with Drake's.

_Pink hair. That was always Lorelei's favorite color…_The thought practically exploded in her mind. Her niece had loved to dye everything pink. Was there a chance?

Crowe had gotten out the clear face shields from the compartment, and was instructing everyone else how to put them on. It gave Delacourt the moment of privacy she needed with Drake. "Have you seen a girl with blonde hair? She's five, she must be so scared. You see, she's been missing since this morning…" Her voice cracked. Getting Lorelei back meant everything, and if even if the girl was dead, she needed to know the truth.

The agent's reaction was immediate, and not at all what Delacourt expected. Drake actually smiled. "The little _meisie? _Oh, yeah! She's fine! She hitched a ride with us and, um, slept most of the way. We left her back in our ship, here in the second spoke. Safe and sound. Really, she's quite a kid." He looked down at his rifle, as if afraid to say more.

"Oh, my God." Relief washed over Delacourt. Against the odds, having been with Kruger and his men, of all people, in a war zone, Lorelei lived. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Did she say anything? Anything at all?"

Before he could answer, the holoscreen display abruptly changed. Where Kgosi's calm voice had been a moment ago, there was now a digital readout. Ten minutes…which began to scroll backwards in rapid succession.

"What is that? What does it mean?" cried Kwon. She wasn't as shrill as Thandi, but she was getting close.

"They're probably tired of waiting. It can't be anything good, that's for sure." Drake clutched his weapon and gestured to the door. "We gotta hurry this up. All of you, stay behind me and Crowe here. Don't panic. You'll be fine." His arm was still throbbing, but not as badly as before. When he stole a glance down at his comlink, he was startled to see words there. A single sentence.

_**Help is on the way. ~L.**_

__"What is it?" Delacourt had noticed his confused expression. "Is it my niece?"

"No. Just gibberish," he lied. "Now come on. Time is very fokken short here." He didn't care about pissing off the Defense Secretary, he was just somehow relieved that the girl was alive and well. The message could mean anything. He was just optimistic enough to think that Kruger had been right, that lightning could strike twice in the same place. _Boss, I sure as fok hope you know what you're doing…because much as I hate this ice-mare bitch, she is that girl's family. And she deserves a family._

_To Be Continued_


	15. Untouched and Alive

Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Once again, Wrecking Kru, you guys are awesome. You've helped make this story what it is. Also thanks to 113pinetree for an awesome illustration; check her out on Tumblr. On with the show.**

"How much further?" The two remaining members of Oryx Squadron had been here before, but not for a while, and never under this much pressure.

"Not far. Keep your voice down. Sound carries more than you'd think in here, and they're probably listening," Delacourt said from behind Crowe.

The insurgent team had cut the main power to the entire Command Center…the Griffins' Nest, as everyone inside the CCB familiarly called it…and now the corridors were lit only by the emergency lights, a kind of eerie blue-white UV glow. The few holoscreens on the walls all showed the same thing. The countdown, green digital numbers flying backwards rapidly to zero. Under eight minutes now.

"I don't like this, _boet_," Crowe said so his teammate could hear. "Where the hell are they? Feels like another ambush waiting to happen."

"Don't know. Keep alert. Eyes straight ahead."

The two of them had briefly debated leaving their civilian charges behind, safe, in the panic room. More people, especially more untrained, unarmed, frightened people, meant a much greater possibility of collateral damage. Delacourt had put a quick end to that discussion. She'd insisted on coming out with them. The claustrophobia had gotten to her, and she wasn't used to sitting on the sidelines for something as crucial as this. As she pointed out, if there was going to be a deal struck, as the highest authority, she needed to be present.

"Vice-President Shin is…how shall I put this?" Her expression had been one of twisted amusement. "_Un imbecile_." No translation had been needed. They didn't know the man except by name, and they hadn't argued with her. Delacourt might have been a frigid micromanager, but she was also decisive…and she paid their salaries.

So they'd all gone together. Crowe in the lead, Delacourt right behind, then the three other CCB employees in the middle, with Drake bringing up the rear. They had at least another corridor to get through before getting back inside the Control Room, and that was provided they didn't run into any trouble. Not likely.

"We're going to be okay, aren't we?" Thandi nervously asked Drake for the third time as she tottered along in her tight navy skirt-suit and stiletto heels. Her voice trembled, and tears streaked the heavy mascara down her café au lait cheeks. "We're not going to die?"

"Keep going, _meisie_. You'll be fine with us." He wanted to tell her to shut the hell up, that she was being a whiny little _mamparra_. In his experience, most of the female CCB civilian staffers, with the notable exception of Delacourt, were like that. Useless, simpering twats in ludicrously expensive, impractical clothes. _Jesus._ _No wonder a dozen scruffy wannabe rebels took this place over with the likes of them in charge. That little girl has more fokken courage than all of them put together…_

Lorelei. In the twenty minutes or so since they'd broken into HQ, Drake had somehow forgotten about her. He looked down at the wrister on his broken left arm, and frowned. Her homing signal wasn't emanating from on board the downed _Raven _any longer. In fact, it wasn't even in the nuke plant sector. It was hard to tell, but it looked like she was on the move above ground, and going fast. _Oh, shit._

"Ma'am?" He chanced raising his voice so Delacourt was able to hear. "I think we may have a slight problem here."

She barely even acknowledged him. They'd finally reached the armory on the far side of the Control Room. When Delacourt placed her palm on the pad, a green light flashed and the door opened with a brief hiss, revealing only emergency lights within. "I am well aware of that fact, Agent Drake."

"No, you don't understand. It's…" The words "_your niece"_ died on Drake's tongue. How could that girl, that brave, kind, funny little one who'd risked her life to save them, possibly be related to this frozen-hearted woman, this ice-mare they all despised? When he'd met the girl that morning, he'd assumed she was just another Elysian brat. Something, whether it was her reckless courage, or the strange way she'd dredged up his long-buried memories, had changed his perception. Lorelei had the very best qualities this polarized world still offered. _Flora had been like that too. And she'd died for it._ "The girl," Drake finished, swallowing the bitterness he felt. "I think she's in trouble."

On her way inside, Delacourt halted in mid-step, causing Gerhart to bump into her. She turned around to fix Drake with a look that might have melted iron. "And you just now decided to tell me?" the Defense Secretary practically spat at him. "Where is she?"

Even he was taken aback by her sharp retort. He had always assumed that kids, like tiny dogs and purses, were yet a fashion accessory up on the _Grootwiel. _Delacourt's outrage wasn't that of someone who'd only lost a Chihuahua. _Christ, she actually cares about the girl. I wouldn't have guessed. _"She's…well, she's not where we left her," he said, aware of how lame that sounded. "I think she'll be okay. You wouldn't believe how resourceful she was down there, ma'am."

The Defense Secretary may have been a head shorter, but she marched fearlessly up to Drake and stopped mere inches away. Though her pale, beautiful face was outwardly calm, her nostrils flared and a vein in her neck throbbed. "You take me to her right now. Do you understand?"

"What about this place, ma'am?" Crowe, who'd not said anything up until now, asked the obvious question. "We're running out of fokken time here…we gotta get inside and clear that place before that clock runs down." The countdown was down to under seven minutes, and they hadn't even gotten to the Control Room yet.

Her eyes were wide, pleading, almost frantic. "If Lorelei dies…"

She never got to finish. A spray of gunfire…railgun, by the sheer ferocity and crackling electrical tang of it… erupted from somewhere next to the weapons storage lockers fifty feet away, missing them by millimeters. Drake, out of the instincts sharply honed over a century in the field, pushed Delacourt roughly down to the floor. How she wasn't hit, he didn't know. He only did what had kept him alive for so long. He returned fire. The implants in his cheeks made his vision as keen as a nocturnal predator's, and they served him well now. _Three of the bastards…think you can hide over there, eh? I'll show you. _The Chemrail in his one good arm stirred to violent life.

Beside him, Crowe had done the same thing. "Get those civs out of here!" the pilot shouted over the ear-splitting racket.

Kwon and Gerhart had already had the good sense to get their asses down. Thandi just stood there, shrieking at the top of her lungs. Not only was she an easy target, she was a loud one. Drake swore. She was ten feet from him. Didn't they ever run drills up here? "Get the fok down!" he hissed at her, taking the opportunity to shoot one of the insurgents who was reloading behind the med-bays. Strangely enough, Thandi didn't get hit. They couldn't worry about her for the time being, they'd have to hope her luck held.

Crowe had taken down a second member of the ambush. There was only one left.

Whoever was shooting at them was either fortunate or well-trained. He couldn't have had the same kinds of implants as the mercenaries, but he hit Gerhart in the left knee, instantly tearing it to shreds of raw meat. The Undersecretary howled in pain. Beside him, Kwon whimpered and covered her own head.

The odds were two to one now. In between the thunderous volleys, Crowe and Drake shared a brief look. Without even needing to speak, they communicated with their eyes. _Draw him out. We'll give him a little surprise._

And in the end, the hidden insurgent made a mistake. He stopped firing. That gave Crowe just enough time to pull one of the Walkyr grenades from his ammo belt and toss it the short distance across the room to where their enemy hid. There was a terrible pause, but then, the explosion's concussive effect rocked the entire room. Smoke and the pungent cordite smell filled the air. The whole sequence of events had lasted no more than a minute or so, but it felt like a small eternity.

Thandi was still standing there, open-mouthed and shaking, like a stunned giraffe. Unhurt. Gerhart was bleeding all over the floor, Kwon holding his hand. For a moment, Drake had the horrible feeling Delacourt had been shot.

Then, exhaling relief, he spotted her. She was curled up in a defensive posture on the steel floor. Aside from a tiny graze to her shoulder, she was shaken but seemed otherwise healthy. "Clear this room. Make sure there are no more of them," she ordered, panting out each syllable. "And, Agent Kwon, get Gerhart into that med-bay. Quickly, before he bleeds out."

Drake wasn't feeling his broken arm anymore, just a giddy mix of the Harkkon tabs' dulling effect and the surge of adrenaline battle always gave him. If he'd had to take on the entire remaining contingent, he felt like he could. _And I just might. _He trotted over to where the shooters had hidden, his own weapon still held ready. If today had taught him anything, it was never to underestimate a smaller force.

The thick smoke in the room had already started to clear; yet another ingenious thing about the Walkyr design. Crowe got to the remains first. He chuckled. "Check this out, _boet_. Nothing left but splatters on these two, eh?" he said, kicking at two vaguely human-sized pulpy messes on the metallic floor.

"Where's the third?"

Both of them heard the thin, raspy, wet breathing from behind them. One of the bastards was actually still alive. They looked down at a young man whose body had been practically eviscerated by the high-powered rifles. He must have missed the grenade somehow, but the Chemrails had opened gaping holes in his legs, chest, and abdomen. Somehow, against all odds, he still drew breath.

Crowe drew the pistol from his belt and pointed it directly at the rebel's forehead. "You still awake there, _boytjie_?"

A brief nod. "Let me die. Please." The bloody wheeze that issued from the man's mouth was awful.

"Where are they? What are they up to in there? Don't fokken make me ask twice," Drake snarled at the dying insurgent. There was no holoscreen in here, but surely they were well under five minutes now.

"Something…I don't know…" Every word was a titanic, gasping effort. "She said…secret weapon? Please," he begged. "No more." And just like that, he breathed his last. He was gone.

"The hell you make of that?" Crowe said. Just for good measure, and out of sheer frustration, he squeezed the trigger. The single shot turned what was left of the man's head into ugly scarlet jelly, spraying bloody mist onto his face and armor.

"I don't know. It could mean anything." Drake was equally maddened; the guy might have provided a bit more information if he'd stayed alive. "We gotta get to that control room. If the plan's gonna work…"

"Fok that plan. We're out of time. Get the Defense Secretary now!" Crowe ordered.

"You're looking for Secretary Delacourt?" It was Agent Kwon who spoke, her voice calm and clear despite the trauma she'd just experienced. She struggled under the weight of the ashen-faced Gerhart, who seemed to have passed out. "I thought you heard her go. Agent Thandi went with her. The Secretary kept saying something about saving a girl, that it was a matter of life and death. I tried to talk some sense into her, but she was almost hysterical. She grabbed a pistol; I think she's headed to the Control Room."

The two mercenaries nervously glanced at one another. The entire torus might go down in a matter of minutes, and suddenly Delacourt was more concerned about the life of one little girl? Hysterical? That wasn't like her. She may have been stubborn, but she'd never do something like that without a perfectly good reason.

"You stay here. Get that oke fixed up. Leave this to us," Crowe told Kwon. "And close the door after us."

"If we run, we'll catch up to her. Don't figure she can go that fast in them shoes of hers," Drake said wryly, shouldering his rifle and then sprinting, along with Crowe, out of the armory and up toward the Control Room.

~~s~~

_Three minutes. _

That was all the time she had. It was enough time for something irrevocably terrible to happen, and she knew it.

Delacourt hurried as fast as she dared along the immaculate corridor. She'd left behind her white Manolos in the armory and ran more swiftly than she had in years. What was a pair of ten-thousand-credit shoes next to the entire habitat with its thousands of citizens? One of whom was her own niece?

It seemed a given that this insurgent group knew about Lorelei. How, Delacourt didn't know. The number of living people who kept that particular secret could be counted on one hand. She'd already put two and two together and realized there was a traitor in their midst. If it was just someone on the Defense Council, that was reasonable enough. Money could be paid out, prisoners could be released, then meet with an unfortunate accident, and med-bays could cure any Earthly or Elysian-born plague.

Lorelei, however, could not be replaced.

_Two and a half minutes._

"Madame Secretary! Please wait up!" Thandi called after her. The younger woman was huffing and puffing…she hadn't elected to give up her stylish shoes…and trailed by twenty feet.

"I'm almost there. Once I get," Delacourt stopped, somewhat out of breath herself, "to the interface pad hidden outside Control, and give my DNA override code, we won't even have to go inside. Kerkinos will be activated, and everyone in that room will be knocked out cold. They won't feel a thing," she explained, as if she needed to justify her actions. Not that she cared whether the insurgent team lived or died. They were more useful alive, of course, but after all the trouble they'd caused, she secretly wanted them all to suffer.

"Why would you do that?" Thandi asked in that slight accent of hers, one which Delacourt had never been able to place.

"Because…" Delacourt trailed off. Several strange things, all at once, caught her eye. One was the holoscreen directly opposite them. It had cycled down to two minutes, then stopped, the zeroes dancing endlessly. The usual bright lights had appeared again in place of the emergency ones. And Thandi held a deadly-looking silver Asgari pistol in her right hand.

"We're going to have a little talk first, Madame Secretary." Thandi half-smiled and pointed the gun directly at Delacourt's forehead. All trace of the sweet, ditzy façade had disappeared, and in its place was a grim, determined cast. "What's this I hear about a girl? Never knew you had any family, other than that crazy sister of yours. Always thought you were too busy killing children down on Earth to take care of one of your own," she said, the accent becoming more pronounced with every syllable. "Tell me more about this girl. She must be awfully special to you if you're willing to put her needs before the entire habitat."

Delacourt felt the blood drain from her face, and not just because of the gun pointed at her. _How stupid could I possibly have been_? Thandi, a junior staff member promoted from within…and despite her stellar work record, the Defense Secretary vaguely remembered, she had been born on Earth, not Elysium. That normally meant a mark carried throughout one's career, and relegation to the tech levels or something similarly unglamorous. Not the upper levels of the CCB. _How had she slipped through the cracks?_ "Just put the gun down. We can make something work here," she offered hopefully, aware that the whole Griffin's Nest might be set to explode at any moment.

Thandi shook her head sadly. "The time for that is past. What you fail to understand is," she motioned for Delacourt to put her hands up, "that blood ties run deep. You may have forgotten yours, but I will never forget mine. Those men and women in there? They aren't terrorists, they are freedom fighters. My family. So are the people of Earth, whom you so despise," she said, and looked to her captive as if to prompt a response.

A dark puzzle was taking shape, and more pieces fell into place. _Thandi. I know I'd heard the name before; it's not exactly German or French, is it? _"You're with them. That accent…South Africa, am I right? You were with them from the start. I remember," Delacourt thought about it a moment; it really had been a long time, "back when you won citizenship, but you went by a different name then. _Le Gran Challenge. _Free passage to Elysium. And you started working…where? Engineering? Programming?"

"Biotech." The single word made Delacourt's blood run from frigid to subarctic. Thandi continued. "All those years spent in the sublevels, never seeing the sun for days at a time…why do you think I chose it? Even then there were rumors of all kinds of genetic projects. Some perfectly legal, but most, not so much. You seemed to spend more than your fair share of time in that hellhole. Why, I couldn't begin to say." She kept the gun as level as her voice. "I knew I had to find out. Any time one of the Founders generation is interested, I'm interested. So, when I'd worked the requisite fifteen years or so, it just so happened that your office was looking for a few dogsbodies. It was easy, with my family's help. With a few clicks of a keyboard, a new person is born."

"Thandile. I remember now; that used to be your name when you competed. Thandile Cirha. You were good." Delacourt wanted to kick herself. She'd assumed, with her assistant's light chocolate complexion and gently lilting accent, that she was perhaps a British West Indian. Now, the reality hit her. She'd had a snake, a spying snake, in her office for the last two years. If Thandi didn't know the truth about Lorelei, she knew enough to cause irreparable damage. "Anyhow, that's not important right now. If you're going to kill anyone, kill me. Leave the girl out of this," she said, trying to keep her terror from showing.

"Oh, I won't kill her. I may take her back down with me and see exactly what she's made of, maybe harvest some bits, but don't you worry, Madame Secretary. She'll be in very good hands once we find her. I promise, she'll only feel as much pain as you've inflicted on us."

Delacourt shuddered involuntarily.

Somewhere close, they both could hear the thuds of boots on the floors. The mercenaries had to be hot on the scent by now. "Inside," Thandi snapped, gesturing with the pistol to the interface device. "Before your attack dogs get here."

As Delacourt reluctantly placed her palm on the scanner, unlocking the door, two thoughts galloped in tandem through her mind.

_I pray to any god that is listening that Lorelei is untouched and alive. And I hope my hunch is right…that Agent Drake was lying, and Kruger isn't dead either. I hate to admit it, but I could use him right about now._

The hidden door to the Control Room opened, and Thandi forced Delacourt into the darkened chamber.

_To Be Continued_


	16. There Will Be Blood

Chapter 16

**Author's Note: It gets very dark from here on out! Thanks to leave your sanity and MauMauKa especially for their awesome ideas. Also, for those of you following "Last Son of the Highveld," the stalled Kruger origin story, it is being closed for remodeling/rebooting (or is that "reboeting?") ;)**

During her tenure with the CCB, Delacourt guessed she'd spent more time in the Control Room than anywhere else on the torus, including her own home. The sleek design, carefully manicured greenery, and perfectly placed skylights of it all were, in their own curious sterile way, a comfort. Now they all seemed to mock her for being so careless, not seeing the enemy in her midst. At her back, Thandi jabbed the little pistol between her shoulder blades, urging her boss forward.

"Don't get any ideas. We've got control of this entire system, Madame," the younger woman whispered into her ear. "And I must say, after all I've put up with, I'd rather enjoy shooting you if you tried."

Delacourt didn't doubt it…and the closest med-bay was back in the armory. She knew what those tiny but lethal Asgari Zahhak handguns could do. Peering into the cavernous room with its tiered levels, she made a visual assessment of her dire predicament. Near the top, a handful of men and one short-haired woman of various skin tones, all dressed in ragtag fatigues and scavenged body armor, all holding black market railguns and blasters. A typical rebel cell, but a well-prepared one. They had two years of the illicit intelligence Thandi had fed down to them. By now, scruffy appearance or not, they had to be a formidable enemy.

The rest of the CCB staff who'd been left inside, including the Vice-President, knelt before them, hands and feet bound. There were perhaps a dozen of them, and they looked like wilted hothouse flowers in their designer business suits. All seemed to be terrified but unhurt.

"Madame Secretary! You have to help us!" One of them, a lithe red-haired American woman called Hughes, burst out. She'd been the first to notice her superior come in.

"I said, nobody talks!" The man nearest her smashed his rifle butt into her head, sending her sprawling to the floor, unconscious.

"That's enough, Langa." Thandi spoke in her native tongue, holding up her free hand as she approached her fellows. She switched back to English. "My sister doesn't want us to hurt anyone if we can avoid it. We are here to get what we need and leave, remember? These people have spilled enough blood already."

_Sister. Is that who's really in charge? _Delacourt kept moving, but this was news to her. Could Thandi mean the other woman in the group? Someone else, perhaps one calling the shots from Earth? She never remembered her personal assistant talking about any family. Then again, Thandi had changed her identity, made herself into a completely different persona after her victory all those years ago. And the cruelest caveat of _le Gran Challenge _was the winner's separation from any living family members. Still, Delacourt filed it away mentally. She was already looking for an opening, and, smuggled intel or not, she knew this room and its secrets better than anyone.

Including the fact that there were hidden weapons, and a way to an escape shuttle, for someone who knew where to look for either.

They came to a halt just in front of the two groups, captors and captives. "I have so many things I want from you, Madame Secretary," Thandi said from behind her. "Let's start with the girl."

"Before you do that, may I speak?" Delacourt turned to face her junior. Her heart galloped. She knew she was taking the risk of getting shot, but she had no other option.

"All right, as a courtesy. Keep it brief. Otherwise I might have to cut it short," Thandi said, her voice wry. She kept the gun up.

Delacourt sucked in her breath. She only had one shot at this, and she had to get it exactly right. "You want your colleagues released from the Kamiti Prison. And you want credits, arms, and a return flight to Earth. Am I correct?" she asked, keeping her polite tone. It was almost a verbatim repetition of the Kgosi recorded loop, but she wanted to make certain.

"Yes. You heard _Utatomkhulu_ perfectly well."

She went on. "That much can be arranged. You have my word." Her mind was working quickly now. If they didn't catch on to her gambit, and they hadn't found a way to disable it, she still might be able to get to an interface and unleash the Kerkinos protocol on her enemies. _That will knock me out too, for God knows how long, but it's a small price to pay if they'll just leave Lorelei out of this. "_In exchange, you will all leave this habitat and never return. We will agree not to pursue you." _At least not immediately. "_No questions asked; no one needs to get hurt on either side. I'll also see to it that you get whatever medical care you may require…"

Thandi scoffed. "Why would we need a med-bay when we can have the girl? Isn't that why she was created in the first place, so that no one would ever need one again?"

_Created. Not born. They knew, but perhaps they didn't know everything. _"That's not how it works," Delacourt said, the emotion flushing her cheeks. "That girl, whatever else you want to believe about her, is my last living descendant. You mentioned a sister just now. You have families on Earth. Surely some of you," she added to the group behind Thandi, "have children too? If you love them, and you want to help them, take my offer. I'm asking you this not as a politician, but as a parent." _Because Lorelei, in a curious way, is my daughter just as much as Helene's._

Outside the sealed door, muffled railgun fire, and at least one grenade blast, were audible. Crowe and Drake must have caught up to them. Too late, Delacourt knew. Nothing short of an override code or an atomic blast could open the Control Room once it was locked down. It had been designed, all too well, for a scenario such as this. The two agents were wasting their time.

"You're actually telling me you love a child? The high and mighty Defense Secretary, who sits there every day and casually orders people to be killed, families to be torn apart, while sipping tea? I don't believe what I'm hearing," said Thandi, every word cutting to the quick. Several of her comrades chuckled darkly.

"Yes. I love her." A tear, unbidden, streaked down Delacourt's cheek. "And I'd do anything to save her."

It was hard to read the younger woman's expression. After two years of Delacourt only seeing her as a capable, if slightly airheaded, assistant, anything other than a cheerful demeanor seemed out of place. Finally Thandi spoke. "The sympathy card won't work, Madame, and there's no deal unless the girl is included."

In another time and place, without a gun leveled at her and the entire torus in jeopardy, Delacourt might have finally unburdened herself of all the dark secrets weighing her down. The years of careful planning and billions of credits spent, the agonizingly close, and often horrifying, attempts made in the covert biolabs on the torus and on Earth, the soul-changing joy that came when, at last, the perfect little Lorelei had been placed into her aunt's arms. Right now, she knew, was not that time. "I can't give her to you. I don't even know where she is right now," Delacourt explained, taking a deep breath and composing herself. "Last thing I knew, she was on Earth." _A lie; if they knew Lorelei had returned, they'd get her whereabouts through torture._ "She ran away from home…and I've spent the last day worried sick. Please. I'm begging you, don't hurt her."

"Thought everyone up here had a tracker," one of the male insurgents pointed out. "Give me a second, Thandi, and I can just pull her up on one of the screens, find out where they're hiding her…"

"No. You can't." Delacourt shook her head.

"Try and stop me, bitch."

"You don't understand. _She doesn't have one_." That caused even Thandi to gape. "Since you seem to already know what kind of investment she represents, I won't deny that much. But I ask you this, Thandi: what is the best way to conceal something that valuable? By hiding her…"

"In plain sight." Thandi nodded, understanding. "I always wondered why there seemed to be so many little snot-nosed blonde girls running underfoot around this place. Other than the obvious Hitler Youth 2.0 theme you seem to be going for, Madame."

She didn't bother denying that either. With a notable few exceptions, the torus had few darker-skinned residents, and a retort would just anger them, she knew. Delacourt also held down the venom she wanted so badly to spew at her traitorous employee. "If I knew where Lorelei was, if I could find out somehow, would you consider coming to an agreement?"

Thandi exchanged a look with the man who'd spoken; he seemed to be the second-in-command. "I have to discuss it with my sister first," she protested. "We need to be in agreement before any decision is made."

The noise continued outside, it had changed from the thunder of weapons to the whirring of a pneumatic drill. Without the systems in her control, Delacourt knew it was all futile. She had to keep stalling, hoping the Kgosi group would show some weakness. _I have to get to one of those stations, and fast. Kerkinos will save us if I can stall for time. _"I see no reason why you shouldn't. Where is your sister? I could negotiate with her if that's what you'd prefer," the Defense Secretary offered. "Pull her up on a comlink, perhaps? Use the intranet in this room?"

"I don't think so." Thandi smirked. "If I've come to one conclusion working for you, it's that you don't always play by the rules."

_She does know me well…I'll give her that._

"So we're at an impasse. What do you suggest we do?" Delacourt asked as calmly as she could. If the agents could find their way in, or if Lorelei somehow got out of harm's way, she might have some leverage to use. _Besides, I think I know where she's headed, and they don't._

"I suggest," the lieutenant said in his deep voice, "that we start helping this bitch make up her mind a little faster. See how much she wants to give up to keep that girl alive." He pointed his rifle directly at Hughes, who'd regained consciousness and was whimpering softly.

"One thing at a time. Let me talk to your sister, Thandi. I promise, no tricks."

"I will use this gun."

"And you can, if I am lying." _Or not, since I know every inch of this room, including where I can get my hands on one of my own._ "Just open me a secure comm channel…"

"Thandi?" A new voice, one of the younger rebels in the group, spoke up nervously. "I think we have a problem here."

"Not now, Dubala," she muttered, still eyeing Delacourt with suspicion.

Several things happened all at once. The lights, which had been in their emergency mode, came back up, casting the Control Room in their full brightness. The screens with the stalled countdown flashed alarms in several sectors, including what seemed like the entire Griffins' Nest. Emergency sirens blared from somewhere close by. And the stubbornly closed door swished open, revealing Crowe and Drake…and a squad of twenty fully-armed, shiny black Praetorian droids behind them.

"Get 'em!" one of the agents shouted, and opened fire at the insurgents standing across the room.

Thandi barely had time to react, much less register outrage, but Delacourt read her intent just in time. She was a politician, and despite her title, had never had much stomach for fighting herself. But the fact that this woman had so callously betrayed her, then threatened Lorelei…her own blood… had awakened a hidden fury within her icy resolve. Delacourt snarled and lunged at Thandi, who was still holding the gun, trying to knock it from her grip.

She succeeded in knocking the wind from Thandi, but not in dislodging the pistol. It discharged with a roar, finding its mark: Delacourt's right foot, which disintegrated into a pulp of blood and bone. The Defense Secretary screamed, falling to the floor in a crumpled heap, and her cry only added to the chaos. The elite guardian droids, and the two human agents, were unleashing a torrent of hellish heavy arms fire at the rebel cell. The Control Room, in seconds, had become a battleground.

The insurgents, completely take by surprise, fired back, but were outgunned quickly. Several of them, despite their armor, simply exploded into shapeless masses of organic red matter. The droids rarely missed. However, they did have one last defense: the human shields in the forms of their captives. Delacourt watched with horror through her pain-filled eyes to see equal numbers of them…Hughes, Uehara, Inman…cut apart in the crossfire. Blood and viscera soaked the spotless floors. The inhuman screaming was the worst of it all, piercing and shrill even above the sounds of war, sounding like it came from a grotesque slaughterhouse.

"Stop this!" she called out in a strangled cry. No one heard her. The battle continued; the droids would keep firing until no one without a citizen marker was left standing.

Delacourt rolled to her left side, trying not to look down at her destroyed appendage. Thandi was still down on one knee, gasping for breath. Maybe it was the adrenaline spiking through her veins, or maybe the stress had caused her to hallucinate, because Agent Kruger stood before her, or at least part of him. His head and upper torso. But then, as if by magic, the rest of him emerged, armored and furious.

_Stealth cloak. I remember when he got that. He must have been here all this time._

Even if Delacourt could have given him an order at that moment, it wasn't necessary. He had been doing his job for well over a hundred years, and he'd survived every test, every obstacle placed before him. Kruger worked best when she let him slip his lead. Why he hadn't intervened before…_say, when I was being threatened with a gun_…was a mystery. He was here now, though, and she could harangue him later.

"Help me," Delacourt croaked, and for a split second, her eyes met his. Black, remorseless, predatory eyes looked back. She never thought she'd be so glad to see him.

It was as if the battle taking place behind them were in some other place, another dimension. In any case it was over in perhaps a minute. Kruger held a similar pistol to Thandi's, but hadn't had to fire a shot. The Praetorians hurried into the room, looking for the staffers who still survived. All of it had passed in a frantic, bloodied blur.

_Thandi hadn't been killed, _Delacourt realized with horror. _Because she has a citizen implant. She wouldn't register as a target. And she still has a weapon. _She was about to point it out to Kruger, but he'd seen it and made the necessary next move. Despite his violent ways, he always seemed to. From behind, he held a wicked-looking serrated knife to the mole's throat.

"I'd put that down if I were you, girl," he growled in his rough accent.

Thandi did. She was daring, but not stupid.

"Madame Secretary! Are you all right?" It was the Vice-President who called out to her. His voice sounded distant, lost.

"I…I've had better days," she gasped. The adrenaline had started to die down now, and the indescribable agony of her shattered foot was taking its place. "Get the survivors to the med wing immediately."

"What about you? Won't you need one?" asked a younger female agent who hadn't been hit.

"Give me a moment here, Anderson." Delacourt grunted, then turned and spoke directly to Kruger. She had to be very careful what she said next. "There's still another one out there, maybe even on the torus. Her sister. Find out where she is. And for God's sake, find Lorelei. She's in trouble."

Kruger kept his gaze level and his knife pressed to Thandi's throat. His dark eyes blazed; Delacourt recognized the expression all too well. _He would either kill her, rape her, or both. One more piece of collateral damage_. "Fine. What about my reward?" he said.

For a moment Delacourt had no idea what he was talking about. Then it hit her, and she was outraged. "You actually have the audacity to ask for a _reward_ after breaking every rule of secrecy there is, putting my niece's life in danger, and causing the deaths of at least six civilian employees?" she hissed at him, well aware of how she sounded.

"Your niece is fine. We left her on the fokken ship." Kruger ignored the rest of her diatribe; like his employer, he had always played outside the rules, but he was, in his own way, honest. "So, I find out where this traitor _teef's _sister is hiding, and bring back that girl safe to you, I get my credits." It wasn't an offer but a statement of fact.

Delacourt nodded tightly through her pain. "You can have the money. But please…save Lorelei, Kruger. Please bring her back to me unharmed." Memories could be altered, the Control Room could be restored to its former bloodless glory, blood money would change hands, and Elysium would somehow go on. It had all happened before, though never like this close to home. _If I lose that precious little girl, though, I will lose myself._

"On your feet, girl," he snarled to Thandi, who was shaking all over now, as if she'd returned to her timid undercover persona. He forced her to walk ahead of him, his men in tow behind him still holding their guns.

Delacourt watched them leave the smoking, bloody Control Room. Maybe Thandi would suffer at Kruger's hands, in fact, that seemed like a given. But as long as Lorelei came back to her safely, it wouldn't matter.

_When it comes to my own flesh and blood, I can't play by the rules, _she remembered fuzzily thinking as the fog of unconsciousness took her and the weird, insectile face of a guard droid peered down at her.

~~s~~

"Boss, I've got a heading on the girl. Sector 9," Drake said, not even caring now that he'd disobeyed orders. Because of his actions, they knew exactly where Lorelei was. He had been checking the tracker every few minutes, and it hadn't moved. "I think she went home. Maybe to check on her mum, d'you think? Now that the comms are up again, I can try to get a message to her…"

Kruger wasn't listening; he marched straight ahead with the captive. He'd been given an order to extract information. Out of the many things he enjoyed about his job, this was near the top. The young woman before him was putting up a brave act, even feigning squeals of indignity, but she was just like all the others. She'd give him what he wanted, or else he'd forcibly take it from her.

_I hope it's the latter this time. Been a while since I've done an Elysian._

"Where are you taking me?" Thandi asked, voice trembling.

"Somewhere we can have a little privacy," he darkly answered, and found what he was looking for: a service corridor branching from the main walkway. He stopped, as did Crowe and Drake, and he brought the knife from Thandi's throat to point it at her heart. "There. That's better. You want to tell me where your lying _poes_ sister is?"

"I…I don't know." Fear radiated from every pore. The brave act was gone. She may have worked for Delacourt, won her way to Elysium through acts of violence and deceit, but, looking up into Kruger's fierce expression, she was just a scared girl now. "What are you going to do with me?"

He slid the knife with practiced ease under the hem of her skirt, running its keen edge teasingly up and down the soft flesh of Thandi's inner thigh. "Anything you like, baby. Provided you give me what I want."

Thandi's eyes widened. She'd heard about these men, the sleeper agents Delacourt used to carry out all her dirty work. She'd even seen a few of them up close, but this Kruger, she knew, was the worst of a very bad lot. His reputation preceded him. She'd stolen looks at his CCB dossier, knew what he was capable of, his dark history. She also recalled, with a chilling accuracy, what he did to women who crossed him. "If I knew I'd tell you. She came up to Elysium separately," she said, painfully aware of the metal digging just into her skin now, "just in case this happened, and I don't know where she is. Please. It's the truth."

"C'mon, boss. Let's just knock her out, tie her up, take us with her if we have to. We have to get to where the girl is, remember?" Crowe put in.

But Kruger was fully engaged now, and he had to finish. He thrust the knife higher between her legs, eliciting a shriek from Thandi. "I really fokken hate it when someone lies to me. Especially," he said, leaning closer and whispering into her ear, "such a pretty one. You and I, we could really get to know one another," he cooed.

Thandi whimpered. "I told you I don't know. It's not a lie. Please," she begged, eyes screwed shut now, out of pain, and not wanting to look into those feral eyes. "I'll do anything you want. Just don't hurt me."

"I' m not hurting you, baby. Am I? Tell me if that hurts." Kruger grinned and edged the knife upward, inch by bloody inch. "That's better. Just tell me what I want to know, and I'll really show you a good time. Yes, I will," he said, sounding less like a torturer and more like some half-insane lover.

"C'mon, boss. We have to go. The girl," Drake urged, not wanting to interrupt, but mesmerized nonetheless by the horrific scene before him. "Let's just take this one with us, eh? We'll get what we need out of her on the way."

"He's right," agreed Crowe, who was likewise transfixed but unwilling to intervene. Orders were orders. Both of them had seen Kruger pull this particular stunt before, some drug runner's chick down in Ecuador who'd been hesitant to rat out her boyfriend. Fifteen minutes later, she'd been all too happy to give his whereabouts. She'd taken a very long time to bleed out.

It was everything Thandi could do not to scream or pass out. She didn't want to give Kruger the satisfaction. "You sick, crazy motherfucker," she managed.

A flick of his wrist, and he buried the knife to the hilt within her. The scream that issued from her mouth was bloodcurdling.

"You know what I hate worse than liars?" Kruger cruelly twisted the blade. "Being called crazy."

Thandi had doubled over. How she was still conscious, he didn't know, but only pitiful, strangled, wounded-animal sounds, not words, came from her now. _Just where I like them, all warmed up for me. Now we'll really have fun. _Between his own legs, he felt the fierce, sudden hardness he always got in these situations.

He was dimly aware of Drake's hand on his right shoulder, and his gunner's voice from what sounded like a long way away. "I really don't think she knows where the other mark is, boss. We have to go, time's short. C'mon."

In a dark, shadowed recess of his mind, Kruger heard the Defense Secretary's last order to him. Somehow they were louder than the voices of bloodlust. _Bring back that girl to me. You have to. _And, much as it pained him, and as much as he didn't know quite why, he knew he had to obey. If he didn't…

_I might yet get my balls cut off. And the ice-mare likes to use blunt instruments. Much as I hate to, I have another girl to deal with right now._

"You just stay right there, girl." He stood, leaving the wounded, semi-conscious Thandi slumped there against the wall, with the knife handle still sticking obscenely out from under her skirt. "Maybe I'll come back for you later, eh? Then we'll have some more fun. You stay sweet for me." Turning to Crowe and Drake as if nothing at all had happened, he grinned, that horrible, predatory smile. "Let's get to that shuttle, boys."

_To Be Continued_


	17. Unwell

Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Dark is the order of the day here. Was going to make this one chapter, but found it needed to be two separate ones. Cliffhanger alert! Thanks to the Wrecking Kru as always.**

Lorelei had always known her mother had problems, problems for which there never seemed to be a name. Long sleeping spells, forgetfulness, and the habit of awkwardly falling were just a few of these. That, and the fact that _Maman _never seemed to care where she went during the day, as long as it was out of the house. At night, on those rare occasions when they sat down for meals together in the immense dining room, Helene always tuned out when Lorelei told her how she'd scaled the rock-climbing wall at school, or figured out a new way to sneak around the elaborate Elysian security.

"That's so lovely, _petit_. Why don't you go have Griselda tell you a story?" she'd usually say absentmindedly before going back to watching her favorite holodrama or getting her nails and hair done by one of her dozen personal attendant droids.

Still, Lorelei only had one mother. And that mother needed her now. Every instinct in Lorelei's body screamed it.

_I bet she's having one of her long naps again. What will the bad guys do if they find her all alone? I have to get her medicine and wake her up, make her feel all better. Since I can't get the droids at home to work wirelessly…_

The last hour had passed in a blur, like a dream. Using the old Dragonfly pad and more than a few tricks she'd learned, Lorelei had finally broken into the heavily guarded Central Command server, something she'd only ever fantasized about. She wished someone had been around, even grumpy old Agent Kruger, just so she could have bragged. The code she'd seen back on Earth had been everywhere. It was a parasite, crippling its host. That must have been why the droid forces had been deactivated. The sims she'd played when she got bored at school, the ones intended for CCB agents' eyes only, were loaded with what-if scenarios just like it.

The strategy she'd picked seemed the most obvious. _Phalanx_. The shiny black Homeland droids would have surrounded the Command Center and picked off anyone who didn't have a citizen marker. _Just like that. _Lorelei grinned to herself. Saving the day was easy. She really wished she could have seen Kruger's face. Maybe, for once, he would have smiled and given her his approval.

Still, even if she'd managed to save her aunt and the people in the Control Room, Lorelei was exhausted. It was way past her usual bedtime. This had been the longest she'd ever stayed up, and aside from Kruger taking her out of the game twice now, she hadn't slept all day. Before leaving the downed _Raven_, she'd sucked at the few precious drops of her vita-water still in the plastic bottles. It hadn't helped much, and neither had two more of the protein bars. Lorelei scowled, summoning her reserves of strength and thinking of the mercenary with his strange, twisted sense of humor.

_He still needs to apologize for knocking me out. What a meanie._

The comm pad had given her the needed directions out of the sector, and she'd gladly taken the blanket left by her side, considering how cold it was down here in the depths of the torus' service area. The Asgari pistol she'd tucked into the waistband of her skirt, just in case. After a few wrong turns, Lorelei had finally made it to the lift…she could still smell the lingering musky scent of the Oryx Squadron inside… and all the way up to the Hub. Any other time, she might have been fascinated by her very first visit to the heart of Elysium, with all the ships and the amazing views of the Earth below. This wasn't the time to stop and look. She had to save her mother no matter what. _At least make sure she was all right._

"I'm coming, _Maman_," Lorelei had whispered under her breath.

Most of the vehicles in the vast hangar were droid ships, stuff Lorelei had never even flown in sims. It took a little bit of searching before she found one she could actually hack, an older but swift-looking Aeolus shuttle similar to her aunt's personal model. These types of vehicles, the ones the CCB staffers used, all had both DNA and voice-locks to discourage tampering or theft. "Open door," she ordered, placing her palm on the lock and repeating the phrase _Tante _Jessica always used. She also tried to lower her child's voice to sound just like her famous aunt. Maybe that would work; it had actually made Kruger laugh before.

"_Welcome, Ms. Delacourt. Please enter and fasten your seatbelt." _Just like that, the door slid open. Perfect. Not only did the automated voice know her name, it was safety-conscious. Once she had done so and closed the door, she'd quickly synced up the Dragonfly with the shuttle's control panel and entered her destination coordinates.

Home. She was going home.

The Aeolus aircar was fully automated. All she had to do was sit back and relax. If only she could have. Despite the fatigue, Lorelei sat at the very edge of the too-big seat, adrenaline pumping, and clutched at the little comm pad that had already served her so well. The insurgents' code was still jamming a large part of the main Elysium servers. There was nothing she could do about that for now. At the top right corner was a digital readout: 15 minutes and counting. Her ETA.

In her short life, Lorelei had never known a longer fifteen minutes, and that included the time she'd broken her mother's favorite vase, some funny piece from ancient China, then waited for Helene to arrive home from her party. On the pad, the numbers flew rapidly backward. The shuttle flew swiftly and smoothly through the night, but did nothing to take the rough edges off her jangling nerves. Lorelei desperately wished someone had been there to reassure her, hug her, tell her everything was going to be all right. Even Kruger, with his bad smell and worse attitude, would have been better than no one. The panic-rat was back, gnawing holes in her belly and scrabbling to get out.

_I don't think I want a silly unicorn anymore. I just want things to be okay, for _Maman _to be okay. All of this was my fault. I never should have gone looking for an adventure like some baby. Aunt Jessica really was right when she said I'm a troublemaker who never shows gratitude. So now I have to make it right._

Lorelei was surprised to find her eyes stinging with tears. She never cried like most girls her age, even when she'd fallen off the wall in the orchard and broken her ankle the previous year. When she'd asked her mother why it didn't hurt, and why the injury had suddenly healed, right before her eyes, Helene had said something very strange.

"You are very special, _petit_. When you're older you'll understand."

She _was _older now. And she wasn't even close to understanding. The same thing had happened when the metal from the grenade had entered her leg. _Why?_ When she looked down at her calf now, and saw only the smooth pink skin, Lorelei frowned.

_Maybe I'm actually a superhero. If I am, I'll just use my superpowers on the bad guys if they try and hurt my mother. Easy-peasy._

Then she realized how silly that sounded, and laughed hysterically until more tears came flowing down her cheeks. Lorelei knew better than that. As far back as she could remember, she'd been taught that science and logic showed the answers to life's problems; not magic or fantasy, much as she wanted to dream otherwise. Scientifically speaking, she was a scared, tired, five-year-old girl going up against bad guys, armed with only a small pistol she didn't know how to use.

She could almost hear Kruger's mocking, reedy voice in her mind. _Not bad odds at all, eh, little _nagmerrie_?_

No. Not bad, indeed.

The aircar had stopped, and hovered on the landing pad. Outside, Lorelei could see the grand, well-lit façade of the palatial home she shared with her mother. It was hard to believe less than twenty-four hours had passed since she'd last been here. "Open door," she commanded, and it did.

Lorelei unbuckled her safety harness and climbed out into the cool, perfect Elysian night.

~~s~~

"_Maman_?"

Lorelei's voice echoed up and down the immense, empty corridors as she cautiously made her way upstairs. At the front door, the DNA-enabled palm lock had worked just fine for her. If there were any bad guys, they hadn't forced their way in. The house itself, as her mother never tired of telling her, had been custom-designed by some fancy architect to look like the king's palace in old France. Now it just felt like an empty tomb. No one, not even the valet droids, roamed its lushly carpeted hallways. The mechanical serving staff were all powered down in their nooks and crannies, either by the insurgent code or simply because it was past midnight now.

Never before had she thought of her home as creepy. Lorelei couldn't help but feel like someone was watching her, like the eyes of the stern-looking portraits on the walls as she passed them. Those weren't even pictures of her ancestors or family members. Most of them were weird-looking people in old-timey outfits. Just another thing _Maman _loved to collect.

_Maybe, if my mother spent less time collecting silly things and more time paying attention to me, I wouldn't get bored and go off exploring all the time. Sometimes, grown-ups are just so dumb about things like that._

At some point Lorelei had tried to count the rooms in the house and gotten exasperated at around fifty. There was only one that mattered to her now, and it wasn't far. Her mother's bedroom.

Still no sign of anything moving, either human or droid. Lorelei winced; there was always something in motion in her experience. It felt wrong somehow. Even Scipio, the AI butler's voice in the house she often spoke to out of sheer boredom, had gone silent. She gathered her courage and hurried toward the tall, gilded double doors at the end of the long corridor. The funny little cherubs, the ones that had always made her smile, looked down as if accusing her of trespassing. Tentatively, Lorelei pushed open the door.

"_Maman_? Are you in here?"

The room itself, large enough to park several aircars side by side with room to spare, was an eclectic but stylish blend of ornate Louis XIV antiques, wallpaper and carpet in flowery shades of mauve and gold, and the seamlessly interwoven high technology found in every home on the torus. Across from the tall, velvet-draped bed was a six-foot plasma screen embedded in the wall, just so Helene could enjoy her favorite programming from any vantage point. On either side, elaborate LED displays, the same kind Lorelei had in her own bedroom, were set up to project millions of images of the Earth and deep space in high definition. A crystal chandelier, one which must have cost about the same as the average warship, twinkled above.

Lorelei gasped when she saw. Her mother lay on her back, open-mouthed, atop her bed, clad in one of her expensive peach silk nightgowns. Aside from the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, she didn't move.

That was nothing new. Sometimes Helene slept for a whole day or two. Lorelei just needed to find out whether it was a Good Sleep or a Bad Sleep. Her little heart thumped. She'd had plenty of experience with both. If it was a Bad Sleep, well…

_She's too big for me to carry her to the med-bay in the salon. And for whatever reason, I can't get any of the droids, or even Scipio, to wake up right now. What do I do?_

Helene had always taken lots of pills. When Lorelei had asked, out of curiosity, what they were for, as usual, her mother had given her a vague non-answer. "For my sleep," she might have said one day, or the next, "to help me relax." When Helene was out of the house at some fund-raiser party, Lorelei had once stolen a few of the colorful little tablets, looked them all up on her comm device. They all had big names like Miporol and Aprexxine and Heralnor. Whatever else they were for, they were _not _for sleep. According to the readouts, they were supposed to be used to get rid of lots of pain. Like when people on Earth got sick and didn't have a med-bay. Maybe, Lorelei guessed, that was the next best thing they had.

_Maman_ needed her medicine under any circumstances. Lorelei knew it wasn't her business to ask why. It had to be another of those things grown-ups did in their own private, secret world. Like when men sometimes came to spent time with her mother, and then, at night, there were the strangest noises from behind the bedroom door.

Lorelei tried to shake the memory from her head. That was just too weird…especially that one-man creep show, Mr. Carlyle, the man whose company made all the droids. At least he hadn't come around for a while.

Pacing back in forth in front of the bed, she tried to remember something, anything, that might wake her mother up. _I don't care if she's in a bad mood. I just need her to know that I'm here, that I'm safe. And that she is too. It's going to be all right. Just don't panic…_

Thinking of Carlyle had awakened another not-too-distant memory, a late afternoon when her mother had been entertaining him in the salon. Both of them had been sitting on the balcony, holding little syringes with a bright-green fluid inside. As usual, Lorelei had been spying where she shouldn't be…from behind the tapestries, on that particular day. Her mother and the creepy visitor had both been snorting and giggling like a couple of hyenas.

"They're uppers. Vyvamir, top of the line. I almost never do these, especially after taking Miporol, but," Helene had smiled coyly and stuck herself in the arm with the tiny needle, "sometimes I just want to wake up, _n'est ce pas? _Feel alive? I can't sleep all the time."

Mr. Carlyle had laughed too. It was a horrible, high-pitched cackle that made Lorelei think of a really evil clown.

"I keep them in here. My private stash. I'd hate for sweet little Lor to find these. She's enough of a hyper child without any help, don't you think?"

That was it. The little "uppers" woke people up; it was the other ones that made people sleep. That's what _Maman_ needed right now, some of that electric green liquid. _Just a little. The comm pad will show me how, where to inject_. The syringes had to be in there, maybe in the book that was hollow inside, or the ugly vase? Somewhere, in the salon, they were hidden. Lorelei just had to find out where. But she was getting so tired. And hot, even though the air conditioning still worked. She knew she had to hurry before she, too, fell asleep. _Who would wake me up? Would I be like Sleeping Beauty, and sleep for a hundred years?_

Agent Kruger was no Prince Charming. Neither were his men, she knew. Crowe and Drake had been kind enough to her, but Lorelei knew well enough now what they did for money. She shuddered despite her layers of clothing.

_There are certain things I cannot ask good people to do, _she remembered _Tante _Jessica telling one of the people at work. She had seemed so sad…and Jessica Delacourt, of all people, was never sad. _That is what a well-trained, veteran agent like Kruger is for._

But the Oryx Squadron wasn't here now. She was, and only she had the power to help her mother. She just needed to hurry. Taking off the bulky camo jacket and the blanket to cool down, Lorelei reassured the unconscious Helene out loud.

"I'll be back soon, _Maman. _I promise. Make you feel so much better."

As Lorelei left the bedroom, she didn't notice the little device under the jacket's collar steadily blinking. Nor did she, in the absence of the house's usual lighting, see the second just-barely-visible set of boot prints in the thick pile of the carpeting.

~~s~~

"She just stopped moving? After all that _kak_, we're just gonna go in that house, take her back to her precious auntie, and get our reward?" Kruger impatiently leaned over to look at Drake's wrist device again. The blue dot representing the girl had been steady for the last ten minutes as Crowe flew their shuttle as fast as he dared. Kruger hadn't even mentioned the little bit of disobedience with the tracker. If there were plenty of credits involved, and it just so happened a cheap tracking device was the conduit, he knew better than to question foresight.

"Looks like it, boss. Ain't that just our luck?" said Drake, thought he didn't believe for a minute they were out of harm's way. After the series of implausible events that had brought them all to this point, that was just wishful thinking. He cradled the Chemrail rifle in his good arm. In all the chaos surrounding their entry to the Griffins' Nest, saving the Defense Secretary and her staff, and finding a shuttle, Drake realized he hadn't even thought to get in the med-bay and heal the broken limb. It would have only taken seconds, but it was a moot point now. The Harkkon tabs had made the pain die to a blissful dull roar.

It could wait. He'd heard the desperate urgency in Delacourt's tone just as Kruger and Crowe had. The girl came first…and all three of them knew it wasn't just about a reward anymore. She'd never forgive them if they let her slip away.

For the moment, Lorelei was at home, a grand-looking place out in Sector 9. That had to be the safest place for her, they knew. That was where they were headed.

By the time escape shuttle touched down gently alongside the Aeolus on the helipad, it was just after 0100. "Nice place," Crowe said, whistling. "She must have flown that one here, or hotwired it. I gotta give her a lot of credit figuring her way out of that pit, and unlocking one of those CCB bad boys. She's smart for a _bakvissie_," the pilot observed out loud, powering down the vehicle and gathering his weapons.

Kruger said nothing. He only stood, stretched, and waited for the door to open. The adrenaline still flowed freely, and he was ready for another fight despite his growing fatigue. The shootout at the Control Room, the ordeal at the compound, being poisoned and knocked out cold by the EMP…all of it was to be expected in the line of duty. The dead staffers back at the Griffins' Nest barely registered to him. They could all be replaced; in his eyes, they were just dull meat-bags with stupid hair and worse personalities. He could not.

But if he never saw the likes of Lorelei Delacourt again, it would be too soon. She wasn't just a thorn in his side. The girl pushed all his buttons, awakened his deepest, darkest rage, tormented him with her utter lack of fear. He'd also come to grudgingly admire her in some twisted way. _She's either the bravest little _meisie _I ever met, or the stupidest._ Nevertheless, she was worth a lot of money alive and unharmed, maybe more than he'd see in a typical year. Bangkok brothels had nothing on a rich Elysian woman who wanted her child back. After all that he'd been through, he intended to collect from Delacourt the minute the girl was returned to her.

_Even if I have to take it by force out of that icy _doos _of hers…she owes me after this._

"Right, boys. Look sharp and find that _nagmerrie_, and we'll get the fok out of here." He reached back for his katana, out of sheer habit, and realized, with a pang of regret, that it wasn't there. No telling where it was now; probably buried in some burning rubble heap back in New Jozi, never to be seen again.

Even so, Kruger smiled. _Just one more thing I can look forward to buying with all those credits._

_~~s~~_

"What d'you mean, she's not here?" Kruger paced angrily, all but ignoring the sleeping Helene Delacourt, who hadn't so much as stirred on her elaborate bed since the Oryx Squadron had come in after the tracking device, which had led them right to the bedroom, but no girl.

"I mean, it's just on the jacket, boss. The camo thing she was wearing. See? I slipped it under the cuff," Drake said as diplomatically as he could, holding up the discarded garment as proof. "She took it off. She's gotta be around here somewhere, though. Crowe's checking the rooms down the hall."

Drake expected the worst kind of backlash. The boss never liked getting no for an answer. He flashed a look at the unconscious dark-haired woman nervously, then back at Kruger. _Hope he doesn't take it out on the poor girl's mum, like he did on that chick at the Griffin's Nest. What if she comes walking in on _that? _Poor thing would be scarred for life. _

"Never mind." It wasn't much of a backlash. Kruger's voice actually sounded tired, and it surprised him as well as Drake to hear it. He'd been awake for the last forty-eight hours and, while he usually needed little sleep, the day's traumas, and the lingering effects of the spiked drink, were wearing down the last of his strength. "We gotta get to a med-bay, anyway. Get me and you both fixed up. C'mon, _boet_. There's gotta be at least one on this floor. This is a Delacourt's house, after all," he said, well-aware of how often both the Defense Secretary and her younger sister treated themselves to stay young.

Leaving Helene snoozing away behind them, Kruger and Drake made their way down the long, dark corridor. They had just made it past a wall of stern-looking oil portraits when Crowe came running toward them, panting. He was wide-eyed, as if he'd seen something he shouldn't have.

"Boss, you better see this. I found her," Crowe managed. "She's in the sitting room or whatever the fok they call those places." He paused, worry creasing his face, took a deep breath. "She's unconscious."

All thoughts of weariness forgotten, Kruger sprinted ahead, Crowe and Drake trailing behind him. _That girl better not be dead…or I might just have to do the job myself._

_~~s~~_

Lorelei wasn't dead. She seemed to have fallen asleep right there in front of a towering, built-in bookcase. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and she trembled, as if she were having a bad dream. She clutched a tiny, elaborate wooden box tightly in her left hand. Her lips moved wordlessly, having a conversation with someone only she could see in her dreamscape.

"What d'you think's wrong with her?" Drake said nervously. He swallowed his own growing dread. He was no trained medic, but anyone would have seen the girl had not been well during their escape from Earth. She looked much worse now. If Delacourt's niece was returned damaged in any way, a reward would be out of the question for the three of them. "Sick? Poisoned, like us?"

"Maybe. She's never been off the _Grootwiel_, boss. Gotta be the toxins in the air down there got to her," said Crowe, nudging Lorelei with one foot to try and wake her.

Kruger wanted somehow to believe this was true. He'd seen every human illness and injury conceivable in the line of duty, sustained more than a few himself…and the girl before him was certainly ill. Still, the solution to the problem was right in front of them: Helene's med-bay, a late model Iaso 900, as much a part of the room's furnishings as the grand piano and marble fireplace. "Get her in there, Crowe. Ten seconds and she's all better, eh? Then we take her to Central Command. Claim what's ours. And maybe that traitor _teef_ will be waiting for me, right where I left her." Despite the comforting thought of finishing off Thandi, Kruger was growing impatient, the rage clawing its way back to the surface. It was unnerving how such a tiny girl, even while unconscious, could do that to him.

_Any Delacourt, it seems, has that power._

"There you go. You're gonna be fine, _meisie_," Crowe softly spoke to Lorelei as he scooped her up from the floor. Drake and Kruger watched him place her small body on the adult-sized device. He tapped at the device's screen, waited for it to read Lorelei's right wrist, where her citizen implant was encoded.

The med-bay beeped, a discordant sound. **ERROR. NO CITIZEN DETECTED. **A message flashed.

"Maybe it's gummed up like the rest of the place. Try it again, _boet_," suggested Drake, seeing how Kruger was scowling darkly beside him.

Crowe did. The message repeated. Lorelei remained there, not moving, a delicate princess waiting for a kiss to awaken her that might never come now.

"What. The. FOK?!" spat Kruger.

_To Be Continued_


	18. Paradise Regained

Chapter 18

**Author's Note: Here's what you've all been waiting for (at least I think.) To the Wrecking Kru, for helping me this week. You know who you are.**

"What the fok?" Kruger repeated, disbelieving. His eyes, always dark and predatory, were now fully dilated, a shark who'd smelled blood in open water. He paced back and forth in front of the med-bay where Lorelei lay in repose, breathing heavily, nostrils flaring.

"Nice and loose, boss," Drake said cautiously. It was never easy getting his squad leader down from one of these bloodlust highs, and, as the second in command, that particular dirty job always seemed to fall to him. "Maybe the thing is defective. Could be that the electronics jam is causing it. Who the hell knows?" He threw up his one good arm. "We'll just take her downstairs to the other one. See what happens. Maybe you and I can get fixed up too, eh? C'mon."

As Drake spoke, Crowe had picked the unconscious girl as if to get her out of the way while they figured out their dilemma. He lay Lorelei down face-up on an expensive but uncomfortable-looking gold brocade sofa off to one side. Like Drake, he had witnessed too many of Kruger's blood rages over the years. This had all the hallmarks of a classic; it was a massive thunderhead looming on the horizon. He didn't want the girl caught in the crossfire; not so much out of altruism as the idea of losing out on a third of a massive reward. "He's right. We can figure this out, boss. Take her back alive, in one piece. The Secretary will understand that. Hell, little _bakvissie_ here's been through a lot just like we have…"

The look Kruger shot him was pure, intense, and murderous. "You don't fokken get it, do you?" he snarled at Crowe, shaking out of the stealth cloak as if to more ably gesticulate his fury. He picked up the closest thing at hand…a delicate-looking Louis XIV table clock with gilded accents…and hurled it against the med-bay, smashing it to useless bits and making Crowe wince. "After all that _kak_ we went through, none of it matters! We bring her back as damaged goods," he thundered, every syllable louder than the last, "_We. Get. Nothing_!" More insanely expensive bits of decorative bric-a-brac from the closest shelf, a Swarovski swan, a Limoges ballerina, even a Ming vase, were shattered in seconds. Kruger even picked up one of the miniature potted palms next to the med-bay and violently ejected it through the balcony window, scattering glass and dirt everywhere on the lush pile carpet.

There were fat drops of blood, too. Kruger seemed to have cut himself on one of the broken shards, but the scent only increased his rage by several volumes, and he felt no pain. He paced, and swore, and smashed anything that came into reach. Millions of credits worth of antiques lay in a pathetic pile of destruction. It was as if he had morphed into a human hurricane.

Drake and Crowe could only watch in stunned silence, their weapons held ready just in case. They knew all too well what happened to anyone foolish enough to wander into the path of one of Kruger's storms. It was useless to try and calm him down. Certain forces of nature were unstoppable, immovable, unfathomable for a single man to try and halt on his own. Their boss was one of these. Like a massive wildfire, he would simply have to run out of fuel and burn out in his own time.

The trouble was, the salon was an arid forest full of dry objects. No longer articulating fully in English words, but rather a series of feral snarls and howls of rage, Kruger tore through the entire built-in bookcase on the right side wall, tearing, smashing, or otherwise destroying anything that came into arm's reach.

A single thought burned like an implanted ember in his infuriated mind. _The girl. That fokken girl. She's the cause of all this. _He cleared an entire row of statuettes with a single sweep. Garbage. Dimly, through the throbbing haze, he was aware of one of his men saying something, maybe some admonition to "calm the fok down" or "stoppit, boss, we can work this out."

"Boss. Can you hear me?" It was Drake who spoke, and from a safe distance. "We have to do something soon. I think the little one here's going into a coma." He crouched beside Lorelei's makeshift bed and stroked her hair. All the while he was murmuring quiet encouragement to her even if she slept through it all. Silently he wished he could have slipped Kruger some of the downers he'd palmed from Helene's bedroom. Those were enough to knock out an elephant in the proper dosage, but there was no chance of it, he knew.

That dire statement was enough to make Kruger at least pause in mid-breakage. Somewhere deep inside, that tiny voice of what reason remained was speaking to him again. It had been whispering urgently throughout this whole series of crazy events, from the time he'd discovered the girl on board his ship, to being captured and tortured, all the way up to now. Among the many strong competing drives within him-his desperate urge to kill, his powerful libido, his cutting sarcasm-this was one that didn't lead the pack very often. When it did, it always surprised him for its clear, no-nonsense style.

_You know you can't kill her. Maybe you don't like it, but you know it._

He smashed another china cup, though not as violently this time, and imagined it was the girl's little skull. That was the question that nagged, pressed and prodded him like some tiny burr embedded in his clothing. Why hadn't he killed her yet? It would have been such an easy thing, even as some deeply buried instinct railed against it. A simple twist of her neck, a knife thrust through her abdomen…and the youngest Delacourt would be no more. Yes, she was worth a good deal alive, perhaps more than a year's worth of normal ops. Her aunt would pay whatever he asked. Somehow, though, he knew deep inside that it had never been about the reward. This had always been about the girl, and the ethereal golden thread with which she had bound herself to him like a nightmare.

Kruger had never even met the little brat before, and had no idea why she infuriated him so. He'd been dimly aware that a much younger scion in the Delacourt family existed, but not much more. Another teacup shattered against the wall. Lorelei was of no physical threat to him, and at the same time, she'd registered deep within his very core like some tiny earthquake. After nearly two hundred years of remorseless living, that was nigh impossible for anyone to do. The girl, like him, was a singularity.

Something had to give. If the girl survived this, she'd just come back, enrage him all the more. The reason he possessed crumbled under the onslaught of pure rage.

How much of a challenge would it be to kill someone who healed before his very eyes? Someone who, if he had to guess, could recover from even the most grievous wounds almost instantly? He struck at a tiny oil portrait of a young lady with her dog. Imagined it was the little brat. If the reasonable voice had held the lead for just a moment, it was entirely silent now. Seething, incandescent frustration, which had slowly built up during this whole doomed op, boiled over within him, and something, along with Helene Delacourt's collection of treasures, was irrevocably broken inside.

Kruger felt his lips curling up in a terrible smile. _Who needs to break little tchotckes like these? If she's gonna put herself right back together again, why not have a bit of fun with the real thing? _He fixated his stare on the girl. So young, so small…and so full of the kind of terror that always tasted like sweet ambrosia to him. _It won't hurt, sweetheart. At least not much._ _Maybe I'll even get some of that golden afterglow feeling from it. Since I haven't gotten laid in 48 hours, why not? _Picking up a long, wickedly sharp shard of porcelain, Kruger moved toward her. He must have been nearly salivating, because his men both stared, transfixed.

"Boss. Seriously, you don't look so good." Crowe eyed him with growing apprehension. He had seen that feral, fathomless expression before in Kruger and knew nothing good ever came of it. "I think Drakey's right. We're all tired here. And we gotta get her to some other med-bay soon; hell, I'll fly her back to the Griffins' Nest if I have to." The pilot stood in place, rifle raised. "Just put that down. We'll get out of here and…"

"Get out of my fokken way. Now."

"Okay. Just put it down…boss? Where you going with that?"

Blowing right past Crowe, Kruger stalked over to where Drake kept vigil over the sleeping girl. The gunner hurriedly placed himself between his boss and Lorelei. "He's right, sir. We're all _gesuip_ here and we all need rest. You're not thinking clearly." He knew he was taking a leap into the abyss; Kruger hated having his judgment or his orders questioned. In a way, Drake didn't care. He'd already let one little girl die because of carelessness. Despite all the killing he'd personally done over the years, he'd be damned if he'd let it happen to another.

"Drakey, stand down." The order was a savage growl. "You're in my way."

But Drake didn't move an inch. The girl hadn't moved yet even though he'd injected a tiny bit of the powerful, electric-green Keregen upper into her veins moments before, hoping it might make a difference in her condition. "No, boss," he said, shaking his head. "You're gonna have to go through me first, because I can't let you lay a hand on her."

He saw the blow coming just in time and defended with his one good arm raised. Even without an exo-suit and in his present weakened state, Kruger's haymaker was enough to send Drake sprawling mightily. The two mercenaries fell to the floor, limbs flying, snarling like a pair of lions challenging one another's supremacy. Crowe tried to interject himself into the midst of the fight…this was another thing that had happened before, and which didn't need to happen again…and received Kruger's right fist to his jaw in compensation.

"You…" Kruger, eyes blazing with murderous intent struck at Drake's already bruised face, "never…question…an…order!"

It was all Drake could do just to keep the boss from crushing his windpipe. "I know you're pissed," he wheezed, "but you can't take it out on that girl! We need her alive!"

Lorelei whimpered suddenly. When Drake craned his neck to see if she was awake, his blood ran cold. "Boss, we got company," he murmured, all the fight draining out of him now. Kruger, who'd been about to strike again, likewise turned to look.

The woman from the compound…Naceba…stood coolly behind the now fully-conscious, and terrified, girl. In her right hand she held Kruger's katana millimeters from the girl's throat; in her left she clutched tightly at Lorelei's cornsilk hair. Her expression was as serene as a statue's.

"Now that you're done with your little argument," the insurgent leader said calmly, "perhaps we can discuss more pressing matters?"

"Holy shit, boss. How'd she get in here?" said Crowe, amazed. His rifle lay ten feet away, but he didn't dare move to get it now.

"You're that _teef_ from the compound. We've been looking for you, too," Kruger addressed her, getting to his feet, forgetting the bloodied, battered Drake entirely. It also dawned on him that she must have, somehow, been following them for quite some time now. _How did I not see her? Or the scopes on the rifles? It's like she was completely invisible._

Naceba registered the tiniest flicker of disdain, then it was gone. "Spare me the cliché insults, _umlungu_. I've had a good long look at your classified file and," her brown eyes defiantly locked with his black ones, "you're not the sort of man who can claim moral high ground." She dipped her head slightly to indicate Lorelei. "This one, though? I've learned so much watching her all day. She is a secret weapon indeed; I always wondered what all of that chatter up here was about. Purer heart than I've ever seen in an Elysian, braver than any of my men, and, most incredible of all," Naceba flicked the weapon ever so slightly across Lorelei's throat, creating a scarlet thread, "a self-healer."

_Help me_, Lorelei mouthed soundlessly. The wound was just a tiny sting like a bee's. The girl knew it was already starting to fade, but her terror wasn't.

The three mercenaries were rooted to the floor. They knew what would happen if they tried anything. They could only wait for the Xhosa woman to make a mistake. So far she hadn't.

"So, I think I'm correct in assuming that she is worth billions," Naceba continued, keeping the blade steady. "Maybe more. If I take this girl back to a very remote location on Earth, which I'm able to do now thanks to my sister's intelligence work and the generosity of the Elysian treasury, I can either sell her to the highest bidder or, better yet, keep her until she's older," and for the first time, she smiled wryly, "then breed her to create more. A whole clan of them, with me as its matriarch, just imagine."

"The fok you talking about?" Kruger snarled. The bloodlust coursed, white-hot, through his every vein. This woman had the audacity to trail him (_a second stealth cloak, _he thought, _had to be; I knew the Elysian techs never made just one of anything_), threaten him, steal his favorite weapon…but with her last declaration, a whole new wave of confusion crashed over him.

Naceba picked up on his bafflement. She peered at him, then down at the girl and back again. "I guess they don't tell even the infamous Agent 32 Alpha everything, _ne_?" she said almost playfully. "You really don't know, do you?"

Kruger was vaguely aware of something else stirring from a deeply buried part of him now, rising like a phoenix to the surface. It wasn't just the usual rage or lust. He'd felt it when the girl's palm had touched his own and sent that warm, powerful golden feeling into his very being. _You were never supposed to kill Lorelei…only protect her. _The clear voice was not his, and he couldn't say whose it was, just that it was an uncompromising order. Somehow, in some way which he didn't understand and which infuriated him all the more, he understood now: his fate was permanently bound to Lorelei Delacourt's.

And now he knew what had to be done. He lifted his gaze to the girl's terrified blue eyes and tried to communicate his thoughts telepathically. Given what he understood now, it seemed entirely possible.

_You have to help me out here, _nagmerrie_. I don't like it, but it's the only way you're getting out of this alive._

Lorelei nodded back almost imperceptibly. She knew, too.

"Don't even think about trying to follow me," Naceba warned, seeing how Drake and Crowe had tried to edge closer to her. She had begun backing toward the salon balcony, where, presumably, her shuttle waited. "If you do, I'll cut her throat...and as we all know, a med-bay will be of no help. Let's see her try and recover from her head detached from her body."

"Then you won't get your billions, will you?" Kruger couldn't help but point out. He watched her every move, waiting. "Or your fokken family of superhumans. What'll you do then, eh?"

She chuckled darkly. "I'll have some measure of revenge, on you and that murderous ice-mare you call a Secretary. For starters, you'll be discharged. More than likely, executed. That's one thing you both fail to understand, Agent Kruger. Scientific knowledge, and patience, will always conquer brute strength. With all my comrades have learned from years of espionage on this project, making another self-healer in the lab will be easy. Isn't that right, little one?" she said to Lorelei.

"Boss, she's getting away…"

Every step backwards Naceba took now brought her closer to her escape vehicle. Lorelei was still clutched tightly in her grasp, the sword slash already faded to a soft pink.

The girl's eyes lifted up to meet Kruger's. In so many years in the field he'd seen every human emotion reflected in the eyes of his targets. There was garden-variety fear, stubborn determination, abject terror, even lust. The look he received now was none of them. It was almost inconceivable from one so young. Even at death's door it was unmistakable.

_I don't want to die. I'll do whatever it takes to live._, she seemed to be saying.

_ You better do it now, then. Make it quick. And remember how fokken sharp that blade is._

What happened next happened in a blur. Lorelei had learned many useless facts in school, but a few helpful nuggets as well; one of these had been a course in self-defense. It was supposed to be for that rare possibility of a ship full of illegal migrants crashing someone's garden party. Nevertheless, Lorelei vividly remembered one demonstration in particular. With all the strength left in her, she stomped down hard on her captor's exposed instep. Since Naceba only wore soft leather ankle boots over her fatigue pants, the effect was instantaneous. The insurgent leader howled…and momentarily dropped the katana from Lorelei's throat to the floor.

The girl scrambled away, mewling, on hands and knees. Kruger instantly took her place, launching himself full-force at Naceba. In her pain-filled haze she barely saw him coming. When she did, he was already on top of her. She desperately tried to reach for the sword but he kicked it out of reach.

Naceba was only able to utter a strangled "Please!" before she was could speak no more. It proved to be the only the first notes of her swan song. Teeth bared, pupils fully dilated, Kruger savaged the soft flesh just below her jawline. He ripped open her skin and blood vessels with his sharp canines, spraying a gout of bright scarlet everywhere. All the while he was snarling like a demon, his adrenaline mixing deliciously with the tang of mortal fear issuing from his prey.

"Never," he spat between the thick, coppery blood drenching his lips, "try to take what is already mine." He bit still more deeply, and Naceba's piercing, dying wail, along with the exquisite feeling of her hot blood, was as amazing as any orgasm he'd experienced.

Lorelei had somehow crawled back to Drake, who held her tightly with his good arm as the bloodbath continued, trying to cover her eyes. "Don't look, _meisie_. Don't look," he chanted over and over, unable to avert his own gaze.

She found that she couldn't. She was sobbing now. Time was standing still; the carnage searing itself into her deepest consciousness. Her darkest dreams, the ones she'd never told anyone about, were those of a faceless, hooded man standing over her bed. She'd always thought of the figure as a simple boogeyman, a devil, one who didn't have a proper name. And every night she hoped and prayed he wouldn't return. Now, she at last knew his name, to her everlasting horror. And now she could never forget.

Kruger flung Naceba's body almost casually, face-up, onto the crimson-soaked carpet. She still drew ragged, gasping, bloody, breaths, and he wasn't finished yet. He picked up the fallen katana and, grinning, began to work. Stabbing, slicing, gouging. The blood was everywhere; it'd been a while since he'd had this much fun. At some point, if she'd had a citizen marker, it might have announced, with cool indecision, that Naceba had finally been put out of her misery. That didn't register to him; all that he felt was the intoxicating wave after wave of pleasure. Her corpse looked less human and more like a piece of beef in some horrific abbatoir with every stroke of the blade. Kruger just kept at it.

"For Chrissake, boss, stop! She's gone!" Drake howled in protest, less for his own sake than that of Lorelei, who'd begun to rock back and forth next to him, shaking violently.

Crowe looked on in stunned silence. He'd been on plenty of blood-soaked missions before, but never one on the torus itself. In this room, surrounded by beautiful things, in the presence of the tiny Delacourt girl, it somehow seemed all the more wrong. He said nothing.

By the time Kruger had finished, and turned around to face his men, he was an absolute nightmarish sight. Soaked nearly head to toe with blood and viscera, face and beard streaked, eyes still blazing, katana clenched tightly, he looked far more demonic than human.

"There. It's done," he said, his voice incongruously calm. "We got what we came for. They're all dead. You okay, sweetheart?" He knelt and tried to coo at Lorelei, still huddled next to Drake.

The girl had gone rigid, frozen into place. "Can't you see she's terrified, boss? Leave her be for a minute," Drake urged. He knew that, while Kruger couldn't exactly be reasoned with at the moment, the killing fury had run its course. As for everyone being dead, there was still the matter of Thandi back at the Command Center, but he didn't dare bring that up either. This was the window to try and talk sense into him. "She'll be fine, we just gotta get her out of here."

Kruger raised a curious eyebrow. "Let me just talk to her," he said in a horrible sing-song tone that stood in stark contrast to the human pile of hamburger meat he'd just created behind them. "She's gonna feel all better. And she's gonna make _me _feel all better." On top of the high he'd just experienced, Kruger craved the golden connection, desperately hungered for it. He reached out to touch Lorelei, and she shuddered and shied away.

"Get your hands away from her, you _fils de pute_!"

He looked up. There, surrounding him in a semicircle, was Secretary Delacourt at the head of a squad of Praetorian droids, who all had their Cousar rifles aimed directly at him. She must have gotten her foot healed in the med-bay; although still in her stocking feet, she walked gingerly on the injured limb. When she stepped closer, and saw the blood everywhere, the fury in her eyes transformed into outright shock.

"Oh, dear God, Kruger. What have you done? _What have you done?!"_

And Lorelei, through her haze, found herself tumbling into a dark, bottomless chasm. The last thing she remembered seeing before the blackness took her was the blood streaking Kruger's face.

_To Be Continued_


	19. We Who Remain

Chapter 19

**Author's Note: After the last chapter, I think we all need a breather. Hence, this is (somewhat) lighter. This story is almost done now, maybe one or two more chapters, then off to the sequel! Thanks so much to my faithful readers and the Wrecking Kru. Trivia note: Agent Smith is mentioned in the original Elysium script along with Kruger.**

_One Week Later_

"How is she? Any change?" It almost seemed futile by now, checking in obsessively as often as she did. Secretary Delacourt gazed at the holographic image of the handsome physician, a man whose surname was Llewellyn, on her wrist screen, trying desperately to read his features as if they were magical runes. He was the leader of the six-person team of doctors who'd been caring for Lorelei around the clock in a private hospital wing.

"Medically speaking, Madame, your niece is in perfect condition," he reassured her yet again. "Her vitals are strong and exactly where they should be. Responding fully to all external stimuli, and she's eating and drinking well, if not as much as she might. Bathing and dressing on her own, no problems at all there." Llewellyn's movie-star gorgeous face betrayed his worry nonetheless. "It's the mutism, and the withdrawal, I'm honestly concerned about. That's why we haven't discharged her yet. She's hardly said a word to me, or anyone else, in the days since…"

She already knew what his next words would be. _The Incident. _That was a euphemism to end all euphemisms. Though Delacourt was no medical professional, even she knew what had happened to Lorelei. The girl had been severely traumatized and, in the past week, had retreated into a dark, secret inner realm known only to herself. All that blood, a woman being torn to pieces like that in front of her little eyes, in her own house. _Kruger, you bastard…you did that to her, and I can never forgive you for it. I may not be able to get rid of you…you're far too valuable… but I'll never forget._ Delacourt shivered at the mere thought of the mercenary, then took a deep calming breath. "Thank you, Doctor. I'll be in private conference for the next hour or so, but please, if there's any change in Lorelei's condition, contact me immediately on my secure channel," she said.

"You're welcome, Madame Secretary. I'm glad to be of service." Llewellyn's face disappeared.

Delacourt clicked down the hallway in her smart heels and ivory Gucci pantsuit, brooding darkly as she did so. Fallout from the so-called Kgosi Incident had been as lethal and toxic as an atomic warhead; every waking moment of the last week had been spent paying out reparations, re-encoding breached files, hunting down the remaining members of the insurgent cell on Earth, and conducting a thorough inspection of all CCB's employees, informants, and assets. No one connected to CCB on the torus, including herself, had been immune. Scores of people had been fired, interrogated, or reassigned. It was a minor miracle she still held her own job; of course, her own formal deposition before the President and the Council wasn't until tomorrow. She could cross that bridge when she came to it.

Until then, she had personal business to conduct, and precious little time in which to conduct it. She reached the secret conference room, deep within the bowels of the Griffins' Nest, and placed her palm on the lock. Even those had needed a complete re-set after the grievous breach of security. Delacourt felt paranoid just using the device, and looked all around just in case. There was no one else. She stepped inside the cool, perfectly skylit room, which boasted a spectacular view of the Earth below through its floor-to-wall window scheme. This wasn't the kind of day, however, on which she appreciated a pretty view.

Only two people waited for her, seated at opposite sides of the absurdly long, shiny chrome table. They could not have been more physically different. On the near side to her sat a pale, petite woman who, like so many other Elysian Gen 1's, seemed to have stopped aging somewhere in her forties. Her short, stylish dark hair, pinched features, and tailored espresso suit suggested a particularly well-born song sparrow. Across from her was a tall, mahogany-skinned, broad-shouldered man with long dreadlocks tied back, a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper goatee, and a pinstriped Armani charcoal suit and tie. Both acknowledged the Defense Secretary's entrance with polite nods of their heads.

"Perine. Garrett." Delacourt spoke to both of them. "Thank you both for coming on such short notice. The three of us are the last surviving trustees from the Project, and as you know, we need to come to a resolution today. This meeting will be strictly off the record. Understood?"

They regarded her, expressions solemn. As CCB agents and fellow Founders, they could wear poker faces to match the finest gambler's; Delacourt had known them both long enough to recognize that they were showing great concern for her situation at that moment. "There's still no change in Lorelei's condition, according to her other doctors. I'm worried sick," she admitted. "Is there no way to bring her out of this? By means we can safely use?" she addressed the woman, Perine.

"My conventional methods have not been successful. It's as if she is hiding behind some invisible wall. Not catatonic, just not there. I'm not saying I won't break through to her, just that it's more unlikely as time passes," Perine admitted. "Lorelei is, as I hardly need remind you, a very unusual child. Because the use of med-bays remains out of the question, it may be time to try something, well, more unconventional." Her slight Germanic accent became more pronounced. That had always happened whenever she delivered uncomfortable news.

"Are you suggesting a memory wipe?" said Delacourt, afraid to hear the answer. She didn't trust the procedure, considering its many possibilities of failure, and usually reserved it for only the most desperate situations.

"I'm suggesting I could try to remove the specific memories of what caused the trauma in the first place." Perine delicately sipped at her crystal flute full of mineral water. "Namely, Agent Kruger. To be honest, Jessica, the man terrified me when I conducted his assessment all those years ago, and those in my profession do not frighten easily. He's always been unstable, extremely dangerous, and he is perhaps the most virulent misogynist I have ever encountered." Her birdlike face had blanched. "I am well aware of his unique ties to Lorelei. It would be impossible for them not to be drawn to one another eventually; they simply have too much in common, and it happened much earlier than we'd expected. But do you really want your niece, your own family, to bear that burden in the meantime? _Mon Dieu, _it would drive her mad."

By the time Perine had finished, she was nearly in tears. Delacourt had known her for over a century, and that was a rare sight indeed. As a forensic psychiatrist, she had dealt with nearly all the CCB staffers, including the likes of Kruger and his fellow sleeper agents. She had looked into the abyss plenty of times.

"I have to respectfully disagree, Dr. Roi-Schultz," the man, Garrett, interjected in an impeccable Oxford-accented baritone. "If we condition Lorelei to be afraid of Kruger," he spat out the Oryx leader's name as if it were poison, "she will be afraid of all agents, not just the bad apples. No memory wipe can truly make her forget what happened. I speak from experience. Dreams, flashbacks. There is always something." For a moment he appeared much older than he was. Then he took a deep breath and continued. "Simply keep them apart. This habitat is immense. Send him on missions as far away from her as possible. Give the poor child a normal life instead of being trapped in a cage like a lab rat. Isn't that in part what caused this whole debacle, Jessica?" he asked Delacourt.

She had to admit there was truth in his words, though they stung like salt in an open wound. "Lorelei can never have a 'normal' life again. And as for her running away, I blame that on myself, Agent Smith. I am not her true mother, but I know I should have paid closer attention to her, been more involved in her upbringing. Did I know she was precocious, and always defied rules and boundaries? Was I aware of my sister's shortcomings even if we unanimously chose her to be the surrogate? I won't deny any of it," she said defensively, hot tears springing to her own eyes. "That is why I'm so torn as to what to do now. We all know of the time, money, and most of all, love that has gone into Lorelei's very existence. We are incalculably fortunate that she did not fall into the hands of our enemies. At the end of the day, though, this is my own flesh and blood, despite her unique status. Lorelei is not merely some droid or defense contract. You'll both forgive me if that clouds my judgment."

Garrett peered at her, hands folded on the table, his brown eyes inscrutable. "What course of action do you suggest?"

"And what part do we play? I know you well enough to guess you already have something in mind, Jessica," added Perine suspiciously, "and that you didn't just invite us here for afternoon tea."

She did, of course. Concern for Lorelei had all but consumed her in the days since the Incident. Delacourt had heard the whispers around the CCB for years; that she was cold, heartless, a maverick ice-mare who cared for nothing but power and position. Money, and even losing face, were of no concern anymore. There was only one thing that mattered-Lorelei's safety and well-being-and, as far as she knew, only one way to make sure that happened. It might also prove some of her detractors wrong. "I need your help. Both of you," she said, quiet desperation filling her voice.

"It'll cost you. You see, Jessica, I retired three years ago so I could enjoy my remaining years sipping champagne and swimming in my pool, not worrying about this Project that was supposed have all its kinks worked out," Perine shot back coolly. "I'll do this out of professional courtesy to you, as your longtime associate. Under one specific condition: that I never see Kruger again. Your niece may be simply troubled, but that man is beyond my help."

Delacourt nodded vigorously. "Of course. Money will not be an issue, and you have my word on Agent Kruger. Lorelei's health is my primary concern; if and when she recovers, she'll need intensive therapy along with the partial wipe. That's where you come in." She'd already emptied out several emergency slush funds taking care of grieving families, lost intelligence, and needed repairs to the torus. In the end she'd just have to find more somewhere, even if it came from her personal wealth. Perine was the finest analyst on Earth or Elysium, and her services would be invaluable. Turning to Garrett, Delacourt said, "I also have a special request for you, Agent Smith. You're still on active duty; however, I'll make sure you are likewise well-compensated."

The big man leaned in toward her. "I'm listening."

"Lorelei is also going to need someone to look after her, shadow her every move. You know I would, but I can't do it myself because of my current duties. I respect you too much to merely call this role that of 'bodyguard.' It's not; if that's what I wanted, I'd surround her with a squad of Praetorians around the clock. What I'm asking you to do is much more, Garrett. You'll be training her, mentoring her. I need a Gen 1 agent to do that and you're the best I know. I'll be taking a much more active role in her upbringing now, of course, but she also needs…" Delacourt hesitated. She'd been about to use the words _father figure. _Lorelei had no true father and had never asked why. Sooner or later she would… _and Garrett Smith is a much stabler candidate than C.M. Kruger_. "Someone to look up to," she finished instead.

He had always been the strong, silent type, and considered her proposal, brooding. "Agreed," he said, "and may I also add that, like Dr. Roi-Schultz, I would prefer not to cross paths with Kruger again." Garrett's heavy brows furrowed. "Not as a matter of fear, mind. More out of my own sense of propriety. The man is clearly a menace. Did you watch the same surveillance footage I did? He was looking at her like a piece of meat, Jessica. Salivating, for God's sake."

_At least a hundred times this week. Yes, I saw it. The inclusion of the CMK recombinant strand was a mistake; I know that now. Yet it was the only factor that proved to be a breakthrough in the Project. I can't go back on my own decision._

"Yes, I did. I understand the ramifications." Changing the subject, she said, "We are in agreement, then? Agent Kruger and my niece are to be kept far apart." Delacourt wanted to add _as much as we can_ but thought better of it. "My gratitude to both of you for agreeing to do this. I'll always be in your debt." And she knew she would; the private contracts for two extra Gen 1 CCB agents on her payroll would cost a small fortune. She mentally reminded herself to liquidate some of the properties she only rarely visited now that she was kept so busy.

"I do have one question for you, Jessica." Perine had finished her mineral water and was staring into the flute as if to avoid eye contact. "I hate to be the one to ask it, but why not simply start the Project anew? We have the staff and facilities in place, and the banks of DNA. It would not be easy, and the costs would be high, but think of the possibilities! Why would you want to continue with one who is, well…"

Delacourt shot her old associate an arctic glare. "Defective? Broken?" she hissed, the outrage making her words sound like accusatory stabs. "No, Perine. I will not even consider the idea of terminating her, even if it were as an act of so-called mercy. I love that little girl. She may not as perfect as I'd hoped," she had to turn away momentarily to compose herself again, "but she is _mine_. And if I'm going to be paying for your private services, you will treat her as such."

"Very well." If Perine was taken aback by the outburst, she didn't show it. Out of all the people Delacourt had come to know well over the years, the psychiatrist was perhaps the most unflappable. "I shall await your orders, and for Lorelei to emerge from her present state. In the meantime I shall begin the preparations for a partial wipe specifically to remove her connections to Agent Kruger." She stood and stretched delicately. "So good to see you again, Jessica. Do stop by my home for tea when you can."

The Defense Secretary doubted that would be anytime soon, but she acknowledged the invitation along with its thick underlying subtext. "I will, Perine. And the feeling is mutual."

As Perine _harrumphed,_ quietly gathered her briefcase, then turned to leave, Garrett likewise got up from his leather chair and tried to return feeling to his cold-numbed limbs. "Please let me know when she returns to health. Any time, day or night," he said to Delacourt, his deep voice much more gentle than she remembered. Like Kruger, Agent Smith was singularly talented, and deadly, at what he did in the field. Unlike the volatile 32 Alpha, though, Smith actually possessed good interpersonal skills, even if he could be aloof and withdrawn at times.

Delacourt suddenly felt the urge to be comforted by him, a man who could have easily broken her in half; to cry and cry in his strong arms until she had no tears left. The lack of rest, the tireless worries over Lorelei's catatonic state, and the continuous shockwaves from the Incident were all threatening to destroy her carefully constructed façade of normalcy. "Do you have children, Garrett?" she blurted out, turning to gaze out at the spectacular planetary vista below them. She realized she had no idea if he were even married. _Over a hundred years, and I either never knew or never cared enough to ask one of my so-called closest associate that question, even if he was a sleeper. _

If she could have seen his face, she would have seen a melancholy half-smile playing at his lips. "I never did. Always wanted them, but fate has its own design."

"Indeed." The Earth, through her now-watery eyes, shimmered and danced. "You'll take care of her, then? I don't know who else I can turn to."

From behind, Garrett gently placed one of his broad, warm hands on her shoulder. "Like she was my very own." He had never met the girl; his words were just as much to reassure himself as the Defense Secretary. He did know there would be a huge windfall involved…and despite his initial reluctance, her emotional output had made his decision for him. It wasn't often this woman showed real love for anyone.

"Thank you so much. You have no idea what that means to me."

At Garrett's wrist, a soft beeping issued from his comlink, and the brief moment of connection between them was gone. Scanning the device, he frowned. "Ah. Another briefing. I'd nearly forgotten," he muttered. "I'm sure by the time all this mess is over, we will both wish we never hear those words again."

Delacourt sighed deeply and wearily nodded, looking at her own wrist device. It was well past 2200 and she still had one to attend herself. "I'll be in touch, then. Please don't let me delay you…and for God's sake, Garrett, don't tell anyone about Lorelei. Or what was said here tonight," she begged him.

"As you wish." He bowed ever so slightly from the waist…a mannerism she had always found gentlemanly and in perfect alignment with his love of all things Eastern…then collected his jacket and briefcase and silently closed the tall double doors behind him, leaving Delacourt alone to brood and look down at the glowing blue planet below.

_So much trouble caused by such a simple act: a little girl running away from home. Of course, all this might have happened even if she'd just stayed here, but would it have been nearly so catastrophic? Would I be neck-deep in messes to clean up? I can deal with the President, the Defense Council, even Kruger and his type. How will I deal with this precious little life that I created, that I am now responsible for? Is that what being a mother really means?_

She felt terribly anxious in this vast, empty room with its crushing silence. In the last hellish week there had been almost no down time; now that there was it seemed _wrong _somehow. Selfish, even. She paced back and forth in front of the immense window to try and burn some of the nervous energy. It wasn't helping much. Though it had been years since she'd had one, she'd have killed for a cigarette at that moment.

No droids. No staff. Just her, and the fierce, white-hot love she had always known for Lorelei. It was almost too much.

It was almost time to head off to her final meeting of the day. A good cup of strong black coffee, along with a contraband cigarette, wouldn't hurt. She was about to page ahead to her valet droid waiting aboard the shuttle when her comlink interrupted.

"What now?" Delacourt muttered. Everyone had been trying to reach her this week. If it were up to her, she might have just tossed the device into the deepest part of the torus' lake. When she saw who was paging her, she gasped.

_I'm awake. I need you. ~Lorelei_

All thoughts of her briefing forgotten, Delacourt kicked off her heels and, for the second time in a week, sprinted as fast as she could out of the room, down the hallway and toward her beloved niece.

_To Be Continued_


	20. Proelio Procusi

**Chapter 20**

**Author's Note: To the Wrecking Kru, especially leave your sanity and MauMauKa: you guys are the best. The title of this chapter is not a lost Harry Potter spell; it's Latin for "Forged In Battle" and the motto of the infamous South African 32 Battalion (Drake also has it as a tattoo.)**

"Paper again! You cheated, _boet_!"

"No, I didn't. It's just, you always get that tell when you're gonna play a fokken rock, eh?" Drake grinned mischievously. "That always was your go-to."

They waited on the very same landing platform from which they'd left for the last op. Neither wanted to mention it, for fear of jinxing their current run of good luck. With the _Raven_ out of the repair hangar andfully operational again, both of them restored to health in the med-bays, and a small mountain of reward credits channeled to their accounts from an "anonymous" off-shore benefactor, the two mercenaries were in excellent spirits. They _had _started to get a little bored, though. It was well past the midnight hour and they were still waiting for Kruger.

Crowe leaned against a stack of empty shipping crates, looking as wistful as his harsh face allowed. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually gonna miss her."

There was no need to ask who it was he meant. "_Ja_, I will too," admitted Drake, sighing. After a lot of arguing with Delacourt and threats to quit, they had been allowed five minutes to visit Lorelei in the hospital wing, even if Kruger had been forbidden the privilege. Apparently Secretary Delacourt laid the blame for the entire Incident on their leader. Though their visit had been cordial, saying goodbye, and trying to show a bit of tenderness, had been nearly impossible with six Praetorians standing by, pointing Cousar rifles at Crowe and Drake both the whole time.

The saddest thing was, the girl hadn't shown even a flicker of recognition. She'd just sat there on the edge of her bed, staring out at something distant and occasionally rocking back and forth. Both of them had seen it before. Shell-shock, the old-timers called it, _bossies, _if Afrikaans was your native tongue. The sort of thing that should only happen to grizzled bush soldiers, not to little Elysian girls in pigtails and neatly pressed school uniforms. All the while the mercenaries had hovered by her bedside, trying to make her smile whilst ignoring the security detail.

"You're sure a brave one, _meisie. _You helped save us. I'll always remember that." Drake had moved to put a hand on her shoulder, only to be discouraged by the telltale humming of a Praetorian's rifle about to fire. Instead, he'd just stood there, wishing he could do something, anything, to bring her out of that wasteland of silence. Whispering into her ear, he added, "If you ever need a favor, and I can make it happen, it's yours." While Crowe had momentarily distracted the droids, the gunner had slipped a list of his private comlink codes under her pillow.

Lorelei had tilted her head upward ever so slightly. Like a dog quirking its head in search of a sound only it could hear. Drake desperately wanted to believe she was making an effort to connect with him. Maybe she'd just had something in her eye. He hadn't gotten a chance to ask; the five minutes had elapsed all too quickly. "Goodbye, then, little one. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, eh?" he'd joked, using a one-liner that had never failed to make him chuckle. A hug was out of the question; it wasn't really his thing anyway, and the droid squad probably would have taken the opportunity to shoot him if he had tried. Instead, Drake just looked one last time, hopefully, into her now-vacant blue eyes. Seeing no spark there, crushed, he'd turned to leave.

"You take care, girl_. _Get yourself better, all right? Maybe we'll see each other again someday." Crowe wasn't much for goodbyes either. He'd said his piece, squeezed her limp hand briefly, and likewise left the room as the droids fixed him with their cold, mechanical stares.

That had been the last time either of them had seen Lorelei. As far as they could tell, she was still trapped in the hospital wing, waiting to emerge from her catatonia. It wasn't the fate she deserved. Yet it was out of their hands now; after somehow being cleared of any and all charges stemming from the Kgosi fiasco, the _Raven _and her crew were headed back to Earth on another mission. Nicaragua, in the North American Union. The kind of endless cartel war in which the CCB always seemed to insert itself; comparatively easy pickings. It was yet another stroke of extremely good luck following what they had thought might be the ends of their respective careers. They'd been working black ops for a long time now; Secretary Delacourt was wise enough to know that collateral damage happened in that business, and, while she didn't have to like it, that the Incident had just been an extreme case. No doubt she'd pulled every string she had to get the Oryx Squadron, her go-to guys for dirty work, off like this; her gratitude after Lorelei's return had surely been the deciding factor. Crowe and Drake didn't question any of it. They just did what they'd done for all those many years: followed orders.

"Where the fok is he?" Crowe growled.

"You know how the boss is. He'll get here when he's good and ready," said Drake, reassuring him. Kruger's presence was tangible even if their leader wasn't there in person. During the last week, they'd barely had a chance to speak to him. Like Lorelei, Kruger had required a sojourn in the hospital wing even after receiving a med-bay treatment. The synthetic poison, the one that had slowed all of them down, was the talk of all the techie water coolers on the torus. The insurgents had done what almost no one ever had: nearly killed the notorious Agent 32 Alpha. A chemical compound had been designed specifically against him, no doubt via Thandi's stolen intel, to work at a cellular level and destroy his very DNA structure. Only his unusually strong constitution, and his timely return to Elysium, had saved him, so everyone said. Then there had been the matters of lockdown, debriefing, and most importantly, receiving the cocktail of potent drugs that took the sharpest edges off Kruger's more extreme traits. All that had left very little time for visitation.

Still, Kruger wasn't there. He'd been gone over an hour, and when his men had asked beforehand, the boss had been strangely tight-lipped and cryptic. That wasn't like him.

"He's probably wanking, or having a few beers, or something. How long's it been since he got laid? Hell, since any of us did? Maybe next time we're down Saffa way, we can swing by that place Rina works and get reacquainted…what? What are you looking at me like that for, _boet_?" Crowe halted his salacious monologue and frowned. His comrade wore the strangest expression on his scruffy face.

If Drake had been capable of blushing, he might have at that moment. "Actually, no, we won't be going to see her. Well , I will, just not in that way, you know? I hadn't told you guys this yet, hadn't had the time…" He looked down at his boots. "She and I are getting married soon. Now that I'm set financially, and I can, well, provide for her properly," he said sheepishly.

Crowe guffawed out loud. "You're kidding, right? _Rina_? Our Rina? She's gotta be almost forty Earth years old! And I got the klap from her that one time; it itched like fok!"

"That won't ever happen again," Drake said with a wry grin of his own. "To you or her. She'd out of the business besides. Now that she's my fiancée, I officially have the right to bring her up here, since she got her citizenship, passed all the tests just fine. Rina's healthy as a horse now and a sight better and younger looking. Cost me quite a bit, but," he sighed, "it was worth it. She's the one for me. She's gonna stay on Earth while I'm working, see, and maybe we'll eventually have a few more kids, you know, before I get too old…"

"Hang on. _More _kids? Did I miss something?" Crowe eyed him suspiciously, raising one eyebrow.

"See for yourself." Drake tapped at his wrist comm, and a holographic image of a smiling, dusky woman in a blue cotton dress-Rina-appeared. In her arms she held a squealing baby boy with a shock of thick black hair. "Ah, there he is. My son. She even named him after me: John Francis Drake, Junior. Calls him 'Jacko.' Ain't that just the best thing you ever heard? 'Course, she really nagged me about the whole wedding thing after that. Practically put a fokken gun to my head. 'First comes love, then comes marriage,' all that other _kak_. You know how women are," he said, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Well, if there was any doubt he's yours, Drakey, one look at that plug-ugly face of his and that puts it to rest. Congrats, though."

They shared a much-needed laugh. "At least now I have a son to carry on my name," Drake quipped. "Only way you'd get one is to put a bag over your head while you're with some chick and then use one of them baster things, eh?"

"Very funny. I'm sure I've got a bastard or two somewhere, just never met 'em. Never thought about it all that much."

Drake stared up at the millions of stars above them in the heavens. The smile slowly receded from his lips. In a quiet voice, he said, "Y'know, if I could, I'd adopt the little _meisie_. Take her outta this place for good. What's she got to look forward to here, anyway? Marrying some rich _maaiefoedie_ she don't love, popping out his kids, going to those boring parties? Growing up to be just like that hard-assed ice-mare auntie of hers?" The volume in his tone increased along with his outrage. "That's not life. It's not _living_."

"Well, not much we can do about that, eh?" said Crowe. "We're not her fokken parents. Thank God for that. Best we can do is hope that maybe she's different. Maybe, just for once, an Elysian kid will actually turn out okay. I got a good feeling about her," he emphasized. "If she can stand up to the boss like she did, everything else'll be a piece of cake."

There was no denying the truth in the pilot's words. Drake hadn't really stopped to consider it-there hadn't been much time for contemplation in the last week either-but the very fact that Kruger hadn't laid a hand on the girl testified to her strength of character. "I wonder why he didn't mess with her?" he wondered aloud, speaking both their thoughts. "After we came back on board, you know, when we'd been doing the temporary fix, he had the strangest damn look on his face. Like she'd done something to him."

"I saw it, too. He almost looked ashamed, but that couldn't be. Not the boss," Crowe pointed out.

Neither of them could imagine what might have transpired between Kruger and the girl. It didn't matter, anyway; they'd probably never see Lorelei again if Secretary Delacourt had her way. They were headed as far away from Elysium as possible for the conceivable future. Getting attached to anyone, as they'd learned over the years, usually ended in painful ways. The girl was just another person they'd have to consign to memories.

"Since we're not taking off anytime soon," Drake said, trying to change the subject, as he was still brooding about Lorelei's fate, "wanna make it best seven of fifteen Rock-Paper-Scissors, _boet_?" Winner gets that nice rack of beef ribs from the freezer next time we _braai_?"

Crowe tried to stare him down, but only succeeded in a . "Sure. And they're gonna taste sooooo good, eh?"

~~s~~

It was just after midnight, the closest thing to low tide on the torus. Outside Lorelei Delacourt's hospital room, though, six shiny black Praetorian droids stood vigilantly on guard. They didn't care if most of the human population was sound asleep. That was the beauty of droids; they required no rest, no food, no water, not even restroom breaks. They'd been given orders to stop anyone without permission from coming in. That was precisely what they were doing.

There was only one entry point they were unable to cover. The room was located on the third story; its magnificent window looked out over the private gardens below. To compensate for this, flying drones made their rounds, a dozen cameras were in place, and a motion detector device was set up just in case anyone was foolish enough to try and get to Jessica Delacourt's little niece.

Kruger knew he'd kept the stealth cloak for a reason. He'd had to break into the evidence locker to get it back…and now he used it to its full advantage. Droids looked right past it. So did the drones. It was as if he was really, and truly, invisible.

_Perfect._

There had been the small matter of disabling the multiple alarms. He'd never told the little _nagmerrie_, but she wasn't the only one who knew her way around the Elysian servers and possessed the skills to override. It had taken longer than he'd expected, as the codes had all been disabled in the wake of the Incident. In the end, after a lot of swearing under his breath, Kruger had made his way through the glass with a tiny laser-powered cutter and currently found himself inside, just another shadow in the darkened room.

He was well aware why he was here. No drug he'd ever gotten high from-and there had been so many-could compare to the powerful, warm, surging rush or glory that came seemingly only from the girl's touch. It wasn't exactly sexual in nature, since he'd never been drawn that way to anyone that young. And at the same time it _was_. The golden thread, as he'd come to think of it, was as healing, cathartic, and mind-blowing as the greatest orgasms he'd ever experienced, only magnified tenfold. Kruger craved it. Needed it. Was willing to risk arrest to get it. He'd come back for that, not to say goodbye or anything quite so mundane. _If I'm gonna go into another war zone after all that, least I can do is get a good high beforehand. _

In the last week following the bloodbath at Helene's house, he'd been subjected to poking and prodding, interrogation, debriefings, more than a few heated lectures from CCB brass, and an explicit warning from Secretary Delacourt to stay the hell away from her niece. As usual, Kruger simply ignored all of that. He'd done what he needed to do. He also knew what was best for him; his extraordinary long life and excellent track record spoke for that. And what was best for him right now lay tantalizingly close, on the queen bed facing him.

Lorelei was asleep; no surprise there. If he'd been the sentimental type he might have likened her to a tiny angel. Blonde hair fanned out behind her on her pillow, a long pink linen nightgown, curled up in the fetal position. As he edged closer to her, footfalls light as a cat's on the carpeted floor, he noticed she was shivering slightly.

For a minute or so, Kruger stood there, silently watching her. Lying there in slumber, she looked so harmless, so innocent. Had this really been the source of all his murderous frustration? The reason he and his men had gone through hell in less than a day? Then he remembered whose child she was. He'd wanted to think all that had happened was just a nightmare, that his days of getting entangled with the Delacourt family and their twisted ways were over.

_I can never get away from those bitches. No matter how hard I try. Just look at me now, sneaking in just to get a hit. I'm probably looking at her the way I'd normally look at a great line of coke. No, I could never sell her. This one I'm keeping for myself, and they can go fok themselves if they don't like it. She's _mine.

And he needed the connection more than ever. It didn't seem right somehow to just reach out and grab her hand. From what Crowe and Drake had told him, the girl had gone into some blank state, like shell-shock, after all that had happened. If he touched her now, as aroused as he was, it might break her into a billion glass shards…then she'd never come back.

Subtlety, not force, was what was needed here. Kruger often had to remind himself of that.

Lowering his cloak's hood, he leaned in closer to the sleeping girl until he was mere inches from her face. She was completely at his mercy now. The last of the Delacourts. He could have broken her neck, her spine, all four of her limbs. Maybe bitten her and seen how sweet her lifeblood really was. The thoughts intoxicated him, and only his years of practice in restraint held him back. What he needed was even more exhilarating, if only he could get it. A flash of inspiration struck him. Softly, he sang:

_**Siembamba - mamma se kindjie  
Draai sy nek om gooi hom in die sloot…**_

His voice was scratchy and low, hardly melodic. Lorelei's eyes gently fluttered open almost instantly at the sound of it. It was as if she _knew _somehow, sensed his very presence. That was the eeriest thing about her. She'd been able to look right at him, _through_ him, almost, during their entire ordeal together. No fear. No terror. When she looked at him now, the stare was glassy, distant, and very un-Lorelei-like. Normally he might have chalked it up to sleepiness, but this was different.

"You're the one from my dream," she said in a voice so soft it could barely be heard. "What are you doing here?"

Kruger had no idea what she meant by that. _Had _she been dreaming about him? In the strangest way, that turned him on. "I need something from you. It won't take but a moment," he answered.

"Mmmm. Okay. But you have to hurry, because …" Lorelei stared just beyond his head floating in midair, "_the boogeyman _is gonna be back anytime."

Now she was really starting to make the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Other than being a Delacourt, and possessing her strange gift, the little _nagmerrie_ had a real knack for pushing all the wrong kinds of buttons for him. "Give me your hand," he commanded, unable to hold back anymore.

She did…and when the golden thread reconnected, the feeling was everything Kruger remembered. Exquisite, tantalizing, _real_. He let it flood through his body, not resisting anymore but lapping every drop up and craving yet more. This was his new drug of choice. This was where he wanted to spent every waking moment. _And to think, I almost gave this up. Never again._

When she pulled away, yawning widely, and the sensation vanished, Kruger was both sated and disappointed. Like any narcotic, he could come back to it. He smiled darkly.

"I really should sleep. They say I need to," Lorelei said quite matter-of-factly, though she was still looking around him, not at him. "Do you feel better now?"

"You have no fokken idea."

"My aunt says," _yawn, _"we shouldn't say that word."

"Your aunt says a lot of things."

Her eyelids were drooping shut again. It had barely occurred to Kruger that this golden thread, just like sex, was a two-way street. Maybe he had gotten her spent just as she had him. That thought, in and of itself, was delicious. He'd definitely be back for more, but now, he knew, he had to go. The systems would not stay down forever, they'd realize the camera feed was awry, and then he'd never get his supreme high again. _Besides, the boys are probably wondering where I've gone off to. _"So, until the next time, eh? I'll be seeing you very soon," he said, managing to sound both gentle and lascivious at once.

Lorelei had already fallen back asleep, oblivious to him now. If she'd been shivering before, she was doing so more violently. Dreaming of _him _, no doubt. Of a time and place they'd meet again.

_That's about as hot as it gets. I better leave now before I can't help myself._

As Kruger turned to go, peering at Lorelei with undisguised greed, he suddenly remembered something. It had almost been an afterthought, but he always kept his promises. The thing itself was nothing to look at. Something he and the boys had found abandoned in a shack on one of their missions; he'd kept it as a souvenir just because it reminded him of the Old Country. He pulled it out of his belt pouch now. A little plush oryx, its fur mostly rubbed off, one of its button eyes missing, covered in stains that looked horribly like blood. With a sharp flick of one of his knives, he severed the beast's left horn, leaving it with just one. Then he placed it beside the sleeping girl like an offering.

"One unicorn, as promised," he murmured, resisting the temptation for one more touch, one more surge of that insanely addictive energy. "Remember, little one, I always keep my word. And know this: we _will _see each other again. Even if I have to break every fokken rule in the book."

Then, as silently as he'd come, Kruger was gone, back out the window and down to where the _Raven _waited for him on the landing platform beyond the hospital. It was as if he had never been there.

~~s~~

An hour or so later, after another nightmare of the man in the hooded cloak, Lorelei awoke. When she saw that she was alone in her room, and that no boogeymen, real or otherwise, were waiting for her, she grabbed for the comm on her nightstand. On top of the drowsiness, there was panic, confustion, even. _How long have I been asleep? What happened? And why did I have that nightmare again?_

Right now she just needed someone to talk to. Her aunt. She would come.

Lorelei sent her message, and waited for an answer.

_To Be Concluded…_


	21. Epilogue: Me and My Shadow

**Epilogue**

**Author's Note and Dedication: This marks the conclusion of what has been, for me, a thrill ride I'd not have thought possible. Thanks to each and every reader who followed, faved, and commented; you are all awesome. Especially to the Wrecking Kru, the Krazy Kru, whatever you'd like to call yourselves, for helping make a real, honest-to-God book-length work out of a little crackfic. Kru and the Chipper Chums approve…and a sequel is coming.**

Lorelei loved it up here.

It was the one secret place she'd found that no one…not _Tante _Jessica or Mr. Smith or any of the droids...had thought to look. Sooner or later they would. Then she'd just find another spot…the deep recesses of the hedge maze, maybe, or that one corner of the wine cellar… in which to privately gather with her thoughts. Her new home was every bit as huge as her old one, and she'd barely been allowed to explore its secrets since a guard, either Garrett Smith or, if he was off duty, a droid, was constantly shadowing her now. The one exception to that rule was bedtime. "I don't like being watched when I sleep," she'd loudly proclaimed to the consternation of her aunt.

At the moment she _was_ supposed to be sleeping, but instead fully awake: sprawled on her back, hands clasped behind her head, blissfully looking up at the night sky beyond the torus' boundaries. It made her remember how big the whole universe was, and how small by comparison she must have been. That was strangely comforting. In her enchantment, she didn't care that the roof tiles of her aunt's house were probably staining her nightgown a fantastic shade of ochre again. There were plenty of other nightgowns just like it in the bedroom; she could change. Lorelei didn't think of it as _her _bedroom, just a place she was staying right now.

"Why do I have to go?" she'd protested vigorously even as the servant droids were packing several large pink steamer trunks with her clothes, shoes and toys from her old bedroom, the one she'd spent her entire life in.

"Because," Aunt Jessica's reply was gentle but firm, "your mother is ill, _petit_, and she can't take care of you right now. I can, so you'll be staying with me, in that lovely place in Sector 6. Besides, don't you want _Maman_ to get better?"

"Yes." Lorelei hesitated. "Is it…because of me? And what I did?" She was dimly aware that something awful had transpired at home, the night after her birthday party. The events of that day were all so jumbled, stray puzzle pieces that were scattered aimlessly, disparate bits of a whole that made no sense. There had been gifts, she knew for sure, and a pony ride, a cake, and then…blank spaces, a piece of paper begging for something to be written upon it.

Her aunt's expression had betrayed nothing. "Of course not. You have done absolutely nothing wrong," she said, only Lorelei wasn't so sure.

Lorelei had dropped the matter for the time being. Maybe she'd been sick, too. Or really tired. Sometimes, when she ate too much sugary stuff like birthday cake, that happened. Still, even she knew it wasn't possible to forget the events of a whole day. Such an important day, at that. So she'd persisted, probing for clues from these two new grown-ups in her life: Mr. Smith, whom she immediately liked upon meeting him, and Dr. Perine, whom she hadn't. Neither had offered so much as a hint as to what transpired that day. Instead, they'd just changed the subject, driving the conversation elsewhere to mundane topics like the weather or what she'd eaten for lunch.

"I don't know, Orson. You think I got kidnapped by aliens, and they gave me one of those probes?" Lorelei wondered out loud to the battered plush toy beside her. "Or maybe it was the Men in Black, like in that old Earth film?"

Her new favorite toy was just another mysterious part of the puzzle. The little animal, whom she'd dubbed Orson after learning his species from her comm pad, smelled terrible, was missing one of his horns, and, with his many stains and threadbare velveteen fur, looked like the kind of thing that should have been thrown into the Elysian incinerator pile. He'd been there on her hospital bed when she woke up. Lorelei was immediately smitten. She couldn't have said why, or how, only that she had howled and thrashed in protest when her aunt had tried to throw him away. Finally she'd gotten to keep him. Even if she was getting a little old for stuffed animals, having given up her beloved, well-worn Tobias the Tiger just the previous year, Orson was oddly comforting.

He didn't answer her question, just stared into space with his remaining black, gimlet eye.

"You're no help," Lorelei pouted. "See if I save any of my dessert for you next time."

Orson was not the only strange object she'd found. That morning, when she'd woken up, Lorelei had turned her pillow over, wanting to feel the cooler side of it, and found a piece of paper covered in messy scrawls. Strings of numbers, or coordinates, they meant nothing on their own. The name "J.F. Drake" beside them, which immediately made her think of that famous English pirate they'd read about in class, Sir Francis Drake. She knew no one else by that name. Was it some kind of treasure map? She had the mysterious paper scrap tucked into the bottom of her sock drawer at the moment. She'd find out what it was, sooner or later. Even if she had to break into every server, every file system on the torus. It meant something important…that much was clear, and whether it was hidden treasure or a clue about what had occurred on her birthday, Lorelei was determined.

_So many stars up there. I wonder if all of them have names? Has anyone ever counted them all?_

That was why she'd started coming up here. The universe, as she knew from school, was a really huge place. Even Elysium, the place she called home, was nothing next to all that. It was nice to be able to remember how insignificant you really were once in a while.

In a way, Lorelei wished she _was _insignificant. Like Esme, or Anila, any of her school friends. Someone regular. They didn't have people trailing them everywhere they went, didn't have to go every day to see a doctor who sat there and tapped away at a tablet while saying things like _just tell me how you feel_, didn't have to climb out of their bedroom windows in the middle of the night just to be free.

_Someday, you'll understand why you are different, _her mother's voice cooed gently in her mind. _Someday it will all make sense._

"Why do I have to wait? Why can't I know now?!" Lorelei screamed her question to the stars, not caring that the droids, or half of the sector, might hear her. "It's not fair!"

She knew she sounded like a baby throwing a tantrum, didn't care. Wasn't it her right to know? In the days following her release from the hospital, Lorelei had felt a host of unfamiliar emotions stirring within her. Fear, anxiety, and worst of all, anger. If Mr. Smith hadn't been so tall and strong, and so stoic, he probably would have yelled at her for smacking him on the arm the way she had yesterday. That was one thing she liked about him; nothing ever seemed to break through that composure, and unlike her aunt, he actually seemed to smile every now and then.

"I know you're upset," Mr. Smith had said in his deep, comforting voice. "That's natural. But you must let your anger go."

The only place she'd been able to find to let it go, so far, had been up here. The adults wouldn't listen to her, nor the droids, nor her friends. They wouldn't understand. Only the stars, with their billions of years of wisdom and silent, twinkling faces, would. And Earth. The one thing Lorelei did like about her new bedroom was the amazing view. Even now, it fascinated her, that watery orb with its billions of people living on it, even though none of them were visible from here.

"Someday I'll go there," Lorelei murmured, picking up Orson to stroke at his patchy fur.

And of course, there was one more face, or rather, lack of one, that haunted her. The dark one, the boogeyman who stalked through the shadows of her dreamscapes. She felt a shudder pass through her body. Not a night had gone by when she hadn't dreamed of him, despite the pill Dr. Perine made her take to prevent it. She knew the boogeyman was looking for her, that tall, rangy figure with the coarse brown cloak and even coarser beard poking out from the cowl covering his head. Sometimes he would just stand there and laugh, a harsh cackle. Other times he held a long, sharp-looking sword, sharpening it with a menacing, metallic _shink, shink _sound. But every time…without exception…he was gazing like a hungry wolf at her, and, although Lorelei could never see his actual face, she could make out those piercing black eyes of his meeting with her own.

_I'll find you. I'll hunt you down_, he liked to dream-speak to her threateningly. His lips didn't move; she could hear every word clearly enough in her mind. Dreams were scary that way. _Little one, you are _mine.

That was usually how it ended. Lorelei would find herself bolt upright in the new bed, drenched in a cold sweat, looking frantically around for her tormentor. So far he hadn't shown himself, either in the dream world or the real world.

"If he's real, I hope he never finds me, Orson. I'm really scared of him," she admitted, whimpering softly. "At the same time, and this is the weird part, I kinda wish I could meet him face to face. Isn't that creepy?"

Orson's one eye stared back, as black as the dark hooded man's. She wanted to believe the little oryx, as a kindred spirit, understood somehow. But that was silly. _Almost as silly as being afraid of a boogeyman. Next thing you know, I'll start believing in Santa again. Or the Tooth Fairy. _

The faint tinge of light in the artificial sky, a periwinkle blue against the deep indigo, startled her when it came. She had been up here at least several hours, the last nightmare having awoken her around 0200. Mr. Smith would be coming at dawn; it was time to go now before she got caught, since he surely wouldn't overlook breaking curfew on top of the roof. Sleep would have to come another time. School, Lorelei thought with sudden glee, was a good time. They were doing their sentence structure unit, and she couldn't imagine anything more boring than that.

"Come on, then, Orson. Let's go back inside," Lorelei said, yawning and picking her toy up by his one horn. "Good night, stars. Good night, Earth. I'll see you tomorrow night. Just," she added, pleadingly, "can you let me have one night without the boogeyman? Please?"

No response. She hadn't expected one anyway.

Rising nimbly to her feet, Lorelei stretched. She was exhausted, having not gotten a good night's sleep since her stay in the hospital. It was just one more thing she'd have to figure out, along with the treasure map and the mystery of why she couldn't remember anything on her birthday. She moved toward the little skylight opening, which was just large enough for her to fit through. As she did, a movement caught the corner of her eye.

One of the stars…no, that wasn't a star…was shooting through the sky rapidly, away from the torus and down to Earth. A ship. If Lorelei had to guess from what she could see, she'd pick it out as a _Raven_-class gunship. It quickly dwindled to a speck before disappearing entirely from her sight.

"I'll take that as a sign if that's all you've got," she looked up, acknowledging the heavens and, for reasons she couldn't begin to understand, Lorelei smiled broadly.

_The End_


End file.
